SlyCooper Book3: Dawn of Progeny
by Kit-Karamak
Summary: Third story in the Sly trilogy, including Lament of Carmelita and Spy Cooper. THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE. THE TRILOGY IS NOW COMPLETE. Hooray! Yay even! It's SO LONG. I can't believe it took me six years to write all three. Sheesh. Well, ENJOY! New: Added book cover of Karla in Cryogenic Stasis by WhitMaverick.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** _I keep the Disclaimer, main Author's Notes and all that jazz in the update for Chapter 1. I'll be posting that soon. _

_Here's the prologue. PLEASE, notice the date – this story takes place about TWENTY YEARS after 'Sly 3: Honor Among Thieves' came to its conclusion. For those of you who are a stickler about the math, that means Sly's first child, a daughter, is conceived during the year in which 'Spy Cooper' takes place. It hasn't happened in that story, but give it a chance – furthermore, I'm not abandoning that story… I'll come back to it, I assure you. I enjoy it, after all. _

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**Dawn of Progeny**

Kit Karamak

PROLOGUE:

**Nov**ember **13****t**h, **2025**

**"Not bad for forty-one**, huh?" Sly Cooper ran his fingers back through his tousled gray bangs then drew a gray cap with black trim down upon his brow. He folded his arms and surveyed his work with a smile of dignity. His chocolate brown eyes lowered then raked upwards and a confident up-nod of his chin preceded his swaggering body language.

"I'm almost impressed," came a feminine retort. From over his shoulder came Carmelita Fox, a research analyst for Interpol. She placed a dainty left paw upon his right shoulder; a gold ring glistened on her left ring finger. Her eyes lowered to survey his handiwork. "I could have done it better," continued with a boastful smile. "But I admit, I have to offer credit where it's due… you did a good job."

Before them lay a group of unconscious soldiers in nondescript military fatigues. None of them wore identification. She knelt down and used her fingers to brush apart the fur upon the neck of the group's leader. "This is the tattoo marking I mentioned." She glanced up at Sly Cooper, a middle-aged raccoon whose lithe build made him look like more of a nimble dancer. However, the blocky features of his body – his paws, shoulders and even his facial build, made him appear far from being a pushover.

His head lowered and they made eye contact. "See that? A two-day operation wrapped up on time. We'd better hurry before we wind up getting caught."

"I'd lose my job," countered the vixen, only a few short years older than Cooper, but easily looking a decade younger. She stood up and placed a paw on the side of his face, patted his muzzle and said, "If you're worried about time then don't take so long dispatching a group of foes in the future. Let's go."

"Like you could have done it faster," he returned with a grin.

Carmelita Fox stepped over the unconscious dog pile then glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yeah, I could have. Know why? Because I've still _got it_, Ringtail. Let's go." She stepped through a rusty arch that led into an abandoned town up ahead. Crossing from the valley onto the cracked old pavement, it was like stepping into the city that time forgot.

Sly coughed into his paw and said, "Don't forget, it was _my_ idea to follow the big metal thing out in the field."

"They ran power lines to this town," she responded with an airy chuckle. "It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that we should follow them to the city. The problem was, with no more cables running over them, I couldn't figure out which way to go."

Cooper followed the vixen through a rusty metallic archway, off the grass path and into the overgrown city streets. "True, it _was_ way too foggy to see if any other ones were visible, not to mention most of the line of poles had come down ages ago… but my gut said to head north and… here we are."

"I'll put a gold star on the fridge for you when we get home," she told him with a snort. "God only knows how long it's been since anyone has set foot in this town."

"Not counting those guards?" asked Sly. He hooked a thumb, motioning to the pile they were leaving behind.

Her attention was elsewhere. She lifted her gaze to the row of tall buildings, covered in moss, ivy and grime. Nearly all of these buildings lacked windows and acted like several rows of statues, defending the barren grounds.

Sly cleared his throat to distract her then asked, "Are you sure your source is as reliable as you say?"

"Are you questioning my judgment?" She paused, glanced over her shoulder and glared at her husband then her muzzle contorted into a moue of absolute disgust. "Nevermind – don't answer that."

"Yeah, after all," he chided with a grin, "You married _me_, so I have ever right to question your judgment. What were you _thinking_? Two _decades_ ago… what a crazy idea, huh?"

She furrowed her brows at his sarcastic sense of humor and smirked. "I can always remedy that mistake _right now_. The papers could be in the mail faster than you could pick your _own_ pocket."

"Oh, you _know_ that I only married you for money, Carmelita." He placed his right paw against the small of her back. "And it still amuses me that you're angry I never returned to the police force."

"I wanted you to have direction in your life," she snapped. "It's not like I was asking you to get a job for _money_, either – lord knows you have enough. If anything _I_ married _you_ for money. Dammit, you could have become a history teacher or an archeologist or a self-defense tutor for all I cared. I just wanted you to do something with your life other than steal people's property."

"I gave it all back." He cleared his throat then added, "You still love me," then repeated himself in a melodic singsong voice, taunting her.

"Will you be serious?" she snapped, growling at the end. "If my source is true, this abandoned city is just a cover up. My children would be in danger and I'll be damned if I let that happen. How in the world did Bentley ever keep you focused on a job?"

"I'm focused on this really hot vixen with a badge." Sly opened his muzzle to say more but his wife pivoted on her heel, snatched his jaw and snout in her paw, clamping it together, and leered at him with 'the gaze.'

"My children are in danger and they don't even _realize_ it. If you're even a fraction of a man, you'll cut out this nonsense and help me out _right now_. We're going to crack this case wide open or I'm going to crack your _skull_ wide open… but you'd probably like that, n'est-ce pas?"

"Always the fiery Latina." He came alongside of her and the two began walking up the street as a pair. Weeds grew up through the cracks in the street and wild grass towered above sections of a nearby sidewalk. The roadway was lined with rusted out street lamps, their protective painted barrier coatings long-since worn away.

Minutes later, they happened across an overpass, which began crumbling quite some time ago. It looked safe enough to cross by foot but neither Sly nor Carmelita trusted the concrete bridge to something heavy, like an automobile. One at a time, they made their way across the crumbling concrete expansion then continued further into town.

Her mood changed to some degree. "What a derelict. I can't understand why an entire population would abandon this place for several straight decades and just let it fall into decay. It's like… looking into the future and seeing what will happen to a city just two decades after all sentient life ends or… something."

"Such an optimist," he replied. "At first, I thought this might have been one of those mock model cities you might find out in the south-west of America. You know, the ones where they do nuclear tests…"

"Sly," she trailed off then used a paw gesture to make him stop talking. An ear perked up, listening to the ambient sound of wind howling through the empty window frames of several dozen buildings. "I thought I heard something." She cocked her head then, after a moment of listening, she began walking again. "…How eerily empty."

The raccoon adjusted his blue cap and frowned. His eyes wondered the market square as they came to the first major intersection. "I expected to see a lot of graffiti but even the small handful of paint tags look faded and forgotten."

"That, at least, would be _something_," she mused with a shake of her head. Carmelita ran her right paw over her face then sighed. "The weather, combined with time, did quite a number on this city. All we're looking at is years upon years without maintenance. Within a century Mother Nature will have taken all of this back. Within five hundred years the foundations and sewers will offer little to remember about this place… in five _thousand_ years there will hardly be anything left for archeologists to study."

"Well this proves it." Sly offered her a brilliant smile. "Your source was wrong and we can go on home."

Carmelita ribbed him with an elbow. "There are _two_ things to remember, here." She stopped for a moment, looking at awning frames where the fabric hung in shreds above several doorways. "Number one, real estate is worth power _and_ money. This town is large, it has its own twentieth-century coal power planet at the other end." She lifted a paw, motioning to the trio of smoke stacks in the distance. "…It has sewers and a water treatment plant and two other industrial factories. It has a classy-looking residential sector and a centralized commercial district. How this prime real estate could be forgotten for this long makes me wonder… I mean, what if there was a toxic accident here and people knew not to come back to this place. And here we are, walking around about to get cancer from it?"

"What's the second thing to remember?"

She stared at the ground with an intense frown. "Sly, if a group of people sought to cause trouble but stay off the radar… don't you think they would come here? For some reason, people avoid this city – even to the point where no one is graffiti-marking it… So it looks like the perfect place to come if you want to be left alone. If anything, this city should not be trusted, so _no_ we can't leave – the source was probably _correct_. Something bad is happening here."

"Or already happened a long time ago."

She nodded and patted his arm. "Exactly. Even worse, both possibilities are possible; something happened here ages ago and now it's used as camouflage to great effect. I'd rather not think about all of that, though. I'd rather scope out the area and set up some tracking equipment then scan the topography and use sonic radio waves to search under the ground. Then, I want to turn tail and go back to our mountain."

A grin tugged at Cooper's muzzle. "You really love our little home in the alps, don't you?"

She nodded in reply to his question, fidgeted for a moment then said, "Yeah, you really did good with that place." Carmelita lifted her left paw and fidgeted with the gold band and diamond ring on her left finger then glanced over at her spouse. "What's the last thing you've stolen?"

He pivoted on his heel, turning towards her in the middle of the street. The raccoon placed his paws on her shoulders, until they faced one another. "Mrs. Carmelita Cooper, mother of Conner and Carmen S. Cooper, you _worry_ too much. As lovely as you are when angered, I've done my best to keep things on the up-and-up."

She cocked her head, half-glaring at him. "My tail. What's the last thing you've stolen and when?"

The raccoon dropped his jaunty smile and, in an endearing voice, told her, "When we came off the airplane, an hour ago, I took a Rolex off the left arm of a right-handed lawyer and put it onto the right wrist of a left-handed bum who was panhandling outside the airport near the entrance to the baggage claim area."

Carmelita reached for his right paw on her left shoulder, held it firmly in her grip and used her other paw to smack him hard on his knuckles. She watched for his reaction then did it a second time, harder. Satisfied with a wince, she released his paw and said, "I got a reaction out of you this time, good; I'm glad."

"Because I flinched?" His grin returned. "You just like seeing me vulnerable."

"All women like seeing the vulnerable side of a man – don't confuse that with being sick, whiney or injured, though… We like to see a strong man who doesn't need to be taken care of, but every so often, a woman likes seeing vulnerability in a man."

"I'll keep that in mind, next time you scold me."

"It has to be genuine," she replied, leering at him. After a moment of eye contact, she turned away and began heading back up the street. Sly followed after her. The vixen changed topic and told him, "We need to start setting up a search parameter. We'll use electronic equipment to search for any signs of electromagnetic waves, radio frequencies or anything that can pinpoint artificial interference. There has to be a reason why the Internet satellite view of this city has a censorship blur over it."

"The weirdest part is those postcards," said Sly. "The ones from the airport."

Carmelita withdrew the gift shop index card with a photograph on the front. It was a 'photoshopped' image of their current location, complete with people walking the streets and automobiles driving through the area. She snarled at the quaint image and shook her head. "Now that you mention it, the government could be involved with covering this area up… that way no one asks questions. The thing is, why would they lie for decades? It's obvious by looking at this place; no one has lived here for at least five generations."

"So…" Sly rubbed beneath his chin. "Either the government, who is obviously involved with keeping this place a secret, is in on what's rumored to be happening here… or someone has used that loophole to their advantage. The question is, how does the government enforce their dirty secret?"

A third voice joined the conversation. "That's where I come in." Both Coopers turned around and faced a well build canine with an unlit cigar clinched between his teeth. Carmelita recognized his face a second before Sly. He noted their expression then shook his head. "I see you both must have known my older brother brother, Mugsy. Mug shot, as he preferred to be called, was the family blacksheep – he made his money illegally by means of gambling and racketeering. Me? I work for Russia – I'm the area manager of this town and unfortunately I cannot allow word of this city to go beyond the three of us." He drew two weapons and pointed them at Sly and Carmelita. The over-sized pistols appeared of normal size in his large fists.

"Oh, and I don't hold a grudge for what you've done to the men out at the gate," he said. "Since you're both about to die, do either of you have any last requests?"

Carmelita folded her arms over her chest. "What happened to the people of this city?"

He glared at her a minute then cleared his throat. "During the first world war," said the man in a plain American dialect, "a generation before the invention of the nuclear bomb, this city was an industrial marvel. A scientist here invented a method in which an atom could be split to draw energy from within it. He was a genius but his intelligent inventions, including a way to recycle waste water, turn direct current into alternating current and utilize Edison's incandescent street lamp… well, let's just say these inventions got him into trouble." He gestured with an up-nod to the intersection. "See? No traffic lights. When is the last time you saw a town this large without traffic lights? No, it's been _over_ ninety years since this town had a population. Unfortunately, one of his inventions killed every flesh-and-blood being for up to fifteen miles outside of this city. They were vaporized by the deadliest weapon to ever get buried by the civilized world – a neutron particle flash."

Cooper cocked his brows, glanced at his wife to see if she was following then turned back to the man with the guns. "I'm not the kind of guy who watches History Channel all day, but I've been to a few museums in my day – let me see if I'm following ya' here…" He licked his lips, tilted his head and frowned. "A burst of radiation vaporized all living tissue – everyone vanished but all the buildings, structures and objects remained intact. Isn't _wood_ organic? Why didn't have the buildings in this area collapse from a lack of wood support? Wouldn't there be, oh, I don't know… say… fallout or something?"

"It didn't create a bi-product," said the man, adding, "Everyone simply vanished during the flash. A park at the center of the city no longer had grass, but other than that, only flesh and blood creatures disintegrated. At the edge of the flash radius, several beings were reduced to a smoldering pile of skeletons and tattered clothes. Beyond that, the rest of the world had no idea what happened. The government didn't want to draw attention. His research was salvaged and, since then, we've perfected it. There is a machine that controls the flash, which leaves no radioactive residue in its wake. You'll simply cease to exist. The other option is to take a bullet and die, right here. We'll take your remains and put them into the disintegrator machine and there will be no questions." He flipped the safety mechanism then lifted the pistols a little higher. "What's your option? Start walking or lie down and die in pain?"

"Yeah," Carmelita said, changing the subject, "I knew your brother. I was his arresting officer _two times_. He was a huge pushover and I bet you're the same way." She smirked, cleared her throat into her paw and told him, "I'm going to make things easy for you – you've got two options… one, you help us find the group of science thugs that are operating a base out of this city so that we can shut down their operation… _or_ you can join your buddies outside of city limits. I'm sure you saw the dogpile – they're wrapped up for you, nice and pretty."

The man paused to scrutinize Carmelita Cooper. "You're barely forty years old – you would have been awfully young when my brother was put into jail the first and second time. He's probably about twelve-to-fifteen years your senior; I don't believe you. Follow me. Don't worry, vaporization doesn't hurt."

"How reassuring," retorted Sly with a roll of his eyes. "And she _did_ take him down. The first time was at his casino in America, the second time was in Holland at a flight show. So! Since neither of us are going anywhere, tell us about option 'c'."

"Option 'C' is very much like option 'B'," replied the large canine with the two guns. "I'll kill you both. It's the same for the next twenty-three options – the entire alphabet of options involves your deaths."

"Those pistols are huge," said Carmelita, looking to buy time. "I know my guns, the chamber alone is bigger than a five-seventy-seven caliber… what would you need that much firepower for?"

"To kill you," he said, narrowing his gaze at the vixen. "You're right, it's a six-even – now the second highest caliber handgun round available. One slug will turn you into a ball of fluff. I like a girl who knows their guns well. Pity you're on the other end of it."

Having been distracted by her, he was alarmed when Sly wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, grapping for his forearms. Cooper forced him to aim straight up into the sky. He tried to jerk an elbow back by Sly evaded the attempt, keeping a tight grip on the man's wrists. One of the Nitro Express magnum handguns went off, firing straight up into the sky with a thunderous wallop of sound. The recoil forced the gun out of the canine's paw – it flew back, hitting him square in the forehead.

The man, who so closely resembled Muggshot, quite suddenly became deadweight in Sly's arms. Both of them collapsed to the street together, with Carmelita rushing over to help. She batted the other gun out of his left paw then took him by the legs, pulling him away from Sly. Cooper crawled out from beneath his hulking form and shook his head.

"Thanks, Ringtail." She grimaced, directing her attention to the bloody gash on the bridge of the man's nose. "He's got one hell of a concussion. Let's take him over there and secure him," she continued, pointing to a rundown corner office on the first floor of a nearby building. A faded logo, the symbol for law enforcement, hung on a squeaky metal sign above the door. "There's bound to be a holding cell available."

Sly met her slight grin with his own quirky Cheshire smile and came to his feet. "Sounds good; you get his legs, I'll get the heavy end." He slid his paws beneath the man's arms and, together, they hefted the unconscious man out of the intersection.

Once inside, they worked in concert to get him to the back of the empty police station, where they made use of a jail cell. Carmelita secured the jail cell, using several sets of handcuffs to keep the cell door from being opened. Sly stuffed his paws into his pocket and shook his head. "It's a damn shame that idiot is useless to us now. I'd really like to know what his employer is hiding." He tossed two large handguns to his wife and frowned. "Don't look at me – they're not my style."

She caught one in her left and the other in her right paw. After a moment to study the guns, she said, "They need muzzle compensators, weights at the end, holes drilled into the muzzle to vent the discharge for reduced recoil and…" She paused then frowned. "Ivory handles?" She lifted her eyes and said, "They have ivory handles? How gaudy." Realizing her statement came off as confusing, after listing things that she wanted to add to the weapons, she cleared her throat and said, "Obviously this guy had these guns custom made – they have ridiculous ivory handles but they're not designed for the small-fry user, they're recoil monsters."

"Fix'em," said Sly with a shrug. "It's not like _anyone_ needs a pistol round to be _that_ large. It's unnecessary."

"If you're going to make a rifle round the size of a toddler's arm, eventually someone will need a pistol to fire it. This caliber of rounds has been around for almost thirty years, Sly. Although, I'll admit, I've never actually seen one used outside of a gun show, before. Dirty Harry would be jealous."

Sly grinned again. "Marvelous."

"Smart ass," she returned with a slight giggle. "Let's get back to work."

"Didn't you used to _hate_ Dirty Harry?" He opened the door and held it for her.

Carmelita stepped through, back into the brisk weather. "I formed a second opinion. He was just doing what he thought needed to be done in order to bring justice to the streets. I've done that before, when in pursuit of _you_. I'd just never put it into perspective before because I've always seen him for just another _bent cop_. Dirty or not, he was out there using the extreme extent of the law to enforce peace and justice."

"Oh my goodness, you had an epiphany." Sly clapped his paws together then followed her through the doorway and back out into the crisp, cool atmosphere. "I've always seen it for what it is – a movie about a cop who goes over the edge just a little, because it adds to the manly 'badass' sort of attitude. So, after all these decades, you finally decided to give Dirty Harry a chance? When did this happen anyway? What's the occasion?"

A flat expression crossed her facial features. "Sly, I gave _you_ a chance, didn't I? Women are evolved forms of higher intelligence; we're very perceptive beings. We have the ability to grow and better ourselves. We're not stubborn fools. And if you want to believe otherwise, you can always be single…" She paused for effect, smiled, then said, "That's what I thought. Like I said, I gave _you _a chance several decades ago. And there was certainly no big occasion back then, either." She paused. After a few seconds, she cut him a grin.

"You're hot when you're fired up about something. It's so cute."

A distant tapping noise caught their attention, ending the dialogue. The sound turned to more of a rattling then broadened into a cacophony of jarring chaos. The dissonance swelled like an orchestra joined next by a fantastic shaking. As they hurried out into the middle of the street, Sly and his wife were quick to notice a plume of dirt and soot rising above the town. Two blocks over, a four story building dropped from sight.

Cooper lifted his foot and brought his heel down on the corner of a manhole. It shifted off the metallic rim in the weed-grown street. He took Carmelita by the waist and pulled her towards the sewer opening. "Go, go…"

"Sly, I…"

"No sewage, the city is dead – just go!"

"What about the man in the cell!" she blurted out, starting to descend as directed, knowing it was in her best interest for safety.

Cooper sighed. He knew he was the only one able to pick the locks of those cuffs used to hold the bars shut but a bullet would work on them just as quickly. He shook his head and exclaimed, "No time! It's double reinforced concrete walls with dual frame rebar – that cell is safer than anywhere else in this city, okay? Just move!" She dropped down the ladder, beneath the street and he dove in, joining her. His paw lifted above the street level, pulling the manhole cover into place.

A building directly across from the police station went next, crumbling to dust. Bricks spilled out over the street, covering the metal lid and barring their exit. The rumbling continued for another few minutes then died down into small aftershock jolts.

"This is a strange area for earthquakes," Sly muttered. He squinted his eyes until his natural nocturnal eyesight offered him enough to distinguish blocky shapes. "It's not pitch black down here; I can make out where you are and where the walls are… Let's look for a way out."

"Sly, there are _no _tectonic plates in this area, but that was more than a tremor – it felt like we were right on a fault line." She reached into an inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small Maglite. It activated with a distinctive click sound, bathing the ceiling in its bright tri-LED illumination. Next, she swept the beam down to the ground, barren of wastewater for ages.

"Carmelita, did Russian towns even look like this one at the turn of the last century? I mean, it had a distinctively American feel and the sewer tunnels are kinda' weird too. They're very… I don't know… _modern_, I guess."

"I'm not in disagreement, here." She pointed the light back up then pivoted on her heel. "How does air get down here? There should be sewer grates that let in rainwater and air, but I don't see any access to the street level, save for the way we came."

"It's possible that this is one of the higher points of town, so water runs downhill. There are probably some gutters further down the tunnel." He drew in a deep breath and said, "Other than a little musty, it's not terribly bad down here."

"Yeah, mold – probably from the wet season, leading into summer." She paused, tapped the back of the flashlight casing against her chin then folded her arms. "You know, that quake happened at an awfully convenient time. With all the guards and the sector boss dispatched, I'm thinking that the quake could have been a defense measure."

The raccoon furrowed his brows. "How do you build your own earthquake machine?" He tried to imagine what it would look like but only came up with, "An underground mountain of Jell-O. If you give it a wild shake, it would wobble the city to its foundations… wow." His eyes shifted, meeting those of his wife. She lifted the flashlight in his face, causing his dilated pupils to shrink. "What? There's always room for Jell-O!"

"You're impossible. Why did I celebrate twenty wedding anniversaries with you? Listen," continued the vixen, unfolding and refolding her arms, shining the light against the ground. "I'm thinking we're really close. If that was some sort of counter measure, they might think we're dead now. They might think we're under rubble somewhere, because everything stopped now that we're down here."

"I didn't see surveillance equipment," Sly murmured, tapping his snout with a fingertip. Maybe one of those thugs we beat up, outside the city walls, was able to contact whoever is in charge, here. Either that or the guy we put into that cell wasn't quite as unconscious as we thought, and he had some sort of radio transmitter, like a panic button."

"I checked him," she replied. "I got his guns – he had nothing else on him… but it could have been put under the skin or something."

Sly snapped his fingers. "There could be a sensor that sends his vital signs back to the leader. They could have monitored the fight through the data, or whatever. Once he was unconscious, they put their next method of attack into motion. I've seen some weird stuff before – it's not impossible, y'know."

"True." Always a cop, she grew quiet to ponder the current evidence and facts they had uncovered thus far. "There are two possibilities, then… either he's sending another team of people into the city to patrol it… or the shaking stopped because whoever is at the bottom of this has no cameras down in the sewers."

Sly frowned, giving her words some measure of thought. "Come to think of it, I'm sure we're going to be surrounded by hunting parties if we're not careful." He opened his muzzle to speak again but was ushered to silence by his spouse.

She knelt over a broken pipe, jutting from the wall. "It's clean," she said, mostly to herself, cleared her throat and announced, "Whoever has come through here recently left a single, bright red thread. It's snagged on this broken pipe and, at the very least, tells us that someone involved in all of this is wearing something red. I can't tell if it's cotton, polyester or another type of fabric, but it's a place to start."

"I'm sure we're going in the right direction, then." Sly came alongside of the vixen as she rose to her feet. He placed a paw at the small of her back, guiding her further down the pipe – the two quickened their pace but kept their eyes sharp in case they came across more clues.

* * *

**Bold stature and tall standing,** the owl extended his wings, ruffled the feathers then folded them neatly along his back. He lifted his right arm, while a female lackey draped the appendage in a brilliant ruby colored cloak. He then pivoted on his talons and offered his left arm. She moved about him, draping his fancy cloth covering over his other shoulder and bicep.

The woman sank back into the shadow, near the wall, reaching up to tip the brim of her hat before leaving. The owl turned from the departing woman, clad in a similar outfit, facing his peers. A group of canines, lupines and a bobcat tittered in their silky suits and fancy ties. The owl's beak contorted into a smile.

"My accomplice amuses you, gentleman?"

One of the dogs cleared his throat and said, "She has a very nice figure but we couldn't see her face. What's her name? What species is she?"

"The young lady goes by the name of 'Sandi' and you'll see her again, soon enough. Let's focus on business." He cleared his throat much the same way the other man did, previously, and then stalked across the large underground room. "My dear friends, your charitable donations are very much appreciated. By now, many of you have read about one of my ancestors, an impetuous and driven man who came to be known simply as 'Clockwerk'."

He turned about and began pacing a line. "Nothing remains of Clockwerk's original body. His second build was utterly dismembered and recycled. He is, for lack of a better word, _gone_. His existence concluded a very _long_ time ago. But he was driven by ambition to become something more than the normal man. While my family denounced his ways and disassociated themselves with Clockwerk, I grew up fascinated by his tenacity."

"Your field is in theoretical science, though," said the feline at the far right of the group. "How does quantum mechanics bring you closer to the achievements of a man who lived for many generations?"

The owl lifted a feathery hand, index finger raised. "My fifth great grandfather, Author Cogwell vaporized _everyone_ in this city, including himself. Russia has done an exceptional job of keeping this town a secret and my grandfather's work is still here, archived in the walls of this laboratory. He picked this place because it's where Clockwerk once traded his feathers for metal. Like me, he didn't shun Clockwerk's passion to succeed, as the rest of my family has and, to this day, continues to do."

"Twenty _million_ Euros is a lot of money," said the bobcat.

Another man chimed in, with, "Twenty _million_ from _each one of us_. We're waiting to find out the details on the work for which we've funded you. We want to see results that will tip the financial scales in our favor."

"Gentleman," said the owl with a slight smile, "You're all future stockholders in a new company that will emerge as a global giant that will rival Microsoft in its glory days. This company will be the largest non-government affiliated business in the world. Larger than NASA, larger than Halliburton, and twice the size of Google, who is currently partnered with the United States Government in more than half-a-dozen projects."

"But what exactly is being sold? How is information going to turn profit?" Yet another investor who, until now, was quiet.

"Because what we're selling is something my fifth-great grandfather tried to invent. We're selling something that my deceased ancestor, Clockwerk, managed to utilize on a miniature scale. Gentleman," he turned away from them and lifted his hands into the air. "We're going to sell the _future_!" He thrust his left arm outwards and a holographic schematic filled the air. "A machine that will produce unlimited energy, without needing to be refueled! It could power an automobile _forever_, built to the size and specifications that my ancestor used! Just think what is possible on a scale grand enough to power a city? How about ten _thousand_ cities? Not a single byproduct, no harmful emissions! It's reusable and can extend to reaches a thousand times further than modern alternating current! It has millions of applications, from a weapon that could disintegrate a being on the spot, all the way to an energy source capable of _teleporting_ a full sized shuttle through linier space to avoid the boundaries of matter and energy discovered by Einstein! One hundred years from now, we'll have left this planet by our own power!"

He turned back to them and rubbed his paws. "Author Cogwell meant well. But he was too immature to cultivate power of this magnitude. He thought he could take what powered someone the likes of Clockwerk and recreate it on a massive scale. It vaporized living tissue, turning an entire population to dust. However! I've managed to design a power plant capable of reproducing Clockwerk's endless supply of energy without recreating the foolish blunder of Author Cogwell. Soon, the world will know the name, 'Artimus Crowell. The family tradition of changing the surname to hide in shame has come to its conclusion. The 'Clock Maker Owl", a thief guild leader and hobbyist inventor has now been laid to rest as my family's greatest shame. And, yet, from his shameful deeds, my fifth great grandfather, Author Cogwell tried to recreate self-sustaining limitless power, only to create a _weapon_ from it. I have taken their failures and molded them into _success_. The Owl, Clockowl, Cogowl, Cogwell and Cagwell surnames can now be forgotten. There is _only_ 'Crowell', the name and generation that will bring success to my lineage. And all of you here will witness history and grow wealthy off of my success."

The first canine, on the end of the group, stepped forward. "Mister Crowell, we are all very excited that your creation will change the world and make it a better place… I have a few questions, sir."

The owl glanced over his shoulder at the group and nodded then, slowly, turned to face them. "What are your questions?"

"First of all, how do we make money on this? If it needs no refueling, it would destroy the economy and the market built around energy. Finally, can you provide a demonstration of your invention?"

Artimus grinned. "It will create a new market, based around exploration, research, military and all the units necessary to power the world. Please, understand that every self-powered vehicle or object will use this battery-like power plant. Imagine the world if every laptop was able to self-generate its own power without creating exhaust or heat. Yes," he folded his arms and tilted his head. "The world governments will object to our creation at first, but without my new power source, they'll never go beyond Mars and the Moon. There will be new markets in trade of raw resources, mined on distant planets. The global economy will become the galactic economy and will make us all wealthy beyond our wildest dreams."

The avian adjusted his velvet cloak, which covered his expensive business suit. He slowly extended his right arm, holding a remote control in his feathery fingers. With the push of a button, the far wall began to rotate, until the group was looking at a large metal console.

The computer activated by remote command and automated a sequence of events. A trap door in the ceiling opened, as well as one in the floor, directly beneath. A glowing sphere, approximately fifteen feet tall, entered the room from below, until the top met a socket in the recessed ceiling. Upon connection, the glowing intensified and power to the rest of the building ceased. Seconds later, the lights came back on, now powered by the energy core at the center of the room. It resembled a matter-antimatter drive from a sci-fi television show.

"It's safe and it does put out any rays or waves or other byproduct. It generates no heat, nor does it consume anything… it's a self-sustaining, unlimited power supply. Depending on the size and need for power, it can be made to accommodate. One large enough to power a laptop computer would be the size of my thumb. One big enough to power a space shuttle would be half the size of my display model.

"The one you see before you is mighty enough to power _all_ of Moscow, at its current size and consumption rating, until the end of time. So, in theory, if Moscow remained exactly as it is today, without change in power demand, this core would last forever. When need grows, this core will be upgraded – its chambers will be expanded. Thermal power, Nuclear power and even green, eco-friendly methods of power are now a thing of the past. I've replaced them all."

He threw his hands outwards again and exclaimed, "Just imagine if you _never_ had to charge your cell phone! Your electric Razor! You're child's handheld video game! Just imagine if you could power a turbine capable of refrigerating the polar icecaps! Your watch would become timeless; your flight home would never require an overlay. An electronic heart would outlast every user to ever receive it and, thus, could become recycled and donated like its tissue-organ counterparts. Gentleman, you've invested in the _future_."

One of the men ran his fingers back through his hair and frowned. "I was told I was investing in a fantastic new weapon. You mentioned that this has destructive applications, earlier. Can you demonstrate its power? Other than vaporizing the living, how can it be used as a weapon?"

Artimus approached him directly. "The energy wave it emits can be tuned to various frequencies. For example, it could disintegrate an incoming asteroid if necessary. It could vaporize an organic being but the energy would pass harmlessly through their clothing and whatever was in their pockets. A single weapon unit, the size of a taser, could turn you to dust or merely stun you for a few hours. By calibrating the output, I could overload your nervous system and turn you into a quadriplegic. If I turn it up, you'd be a vegetable. Beyond that causes death, the question is… how much juice? Do you want to leave a body or not?"

"Well, you've the largest collection of private criminal investors right in your back pocket," said the man, adjusting his tie. "Show us what we're involved in – some of us could use something capable of turning a victim to mere dust. Some of us have generational ties that go back as far as Clockwerk's guild, like the Fiendish Five. I want to see it in use, I'm sure that all of us here are interested in a demonstration."

The owl frowned then turned away to hide a scowl. "I asked for your help because I wished to know that my inventions would not be traced back to governments bent on stopping me prematurely. I should have also known that your intentions were far different from my own… alas, we all have our own list of ulterior motives." He sighed in a measure of defeat then told them, "My assistant will be back out with the handheld unit. She'll give you gentleman a demonstration in the weapon application you're seeking but I plan for it to end right there. I don't want to hear about people disappearing so shortly after going toe to toe with a crime syndicate. That's not the legacy of my science." He walked out of the room, disgusted.

A moment later, the woman returned to the room. She held a small box in each gray paw. With a flick of her left wrist, the energy core sank back into the floor and the panel doors in the floor and ceiling disappeared. The computer console on the wall returned into the bulkhead from where it came.

She stood at the top of the room, within a veil of shadows, exposing only enough of herself for them to see her silhouette. She wore a dress hat to conceal her face and a dress coat. Her right paw lifted, showing them the other object. With a press of its trigger, _all_ the men in the room were abruptly overloaded with an entropy bombardment, removing energy matter from their bodies, leaving them as flaky hollow husks. Seconds later the group collapsed into small piles of ashes.

Her smooth voice filled the room. "I hope you gentleman enjoyed your visit, your tour and your demonstration. Unfortunately, none of you will be using this device to your own means but we thank you for your financial donations and interest in Mister Artimus Crowell's work." She pocketed the device and left the room without once stepping into the light.

* * *

A/N: _Hey, guys. Lots to talk about. First of all, I'm NOT abandoning Spy Cooper. I'll put the official monologue in CHAPTER 1, because this is just a prologue and I wanted to get it posted… _

_Quite simply, I had this idea in my head and I wanted to roll with it. Spy Cooper WILL tie into this story – and this story will help me finish that one. I'm also NOT abandoning Reflections of Marcus McCloud. Now, I'd like to tell you all that the reason I'm doing this story is because SO MANY PEOPLE are asking me questions via email, PMs, etc, about 'Sly and Carmelita's children' and, so, I decided to just write a story. _

_Also, I really want to mold these kids to my own rhythm, in a sense. I think it would be neat to see how they grow up as the son and daughter of famous parents. I want to explore how they grow up as a boy and a girl who are socially removed from the world in a quiet, exclusive mansion in the Alps on the French border, far from normal schools, normal friends, etc. _

_Does it affect their social skills? Does it affect their maturity, judgment or their personality? Do they hold it against their parents for occasionally fighting? _

_Okay, so in this prologue, we see the modern day relative of Clockwerk, who mentions that the family has gone out of their way to disassociate themselves from Clockwerk up until recently. He's mortal and normal, nothing like The Sire (Lament of Carmelita) or Clockwerk, itself. No, this guy is an average mortal with above average intelligence. He's not concerned with the Cooper family like Clockwerk was. It's the last thing on his mind. Well, except the fact that Sly and Carmelita showed up off of a tip… The tip? I don't mention it in this chapter but you might want to know!_

_So, I'll tell you! This guy stole a rare jewel in order to make his machine work. That jewel caused information to trickle down until it arrived on Carmelita Cooper's desk. Of course, Carmelita researched the French Intel Military file from the year 1,917, which isn't a public file, but is no longer under 'top secret' status… She learned about the town that was vaporized by an owl named 'Cogwell". The jewel wound up inside of a machine that was tracked back to Cogwell's Russian town, dressed up to look more Americanized for propaganda photographs during the First World War. That's a sub-plot back-story. Anyway, she calls on her husband, Sly Cooper, to come with her to Russia for TWO REASONS. _

_One, he's the best jewel thief of his time. Two, he would take interest in a man distantly related to Clockwerk. So he goes along with her. Because of the nature of the target's ancestral bloodline, Sly and Carmelita leave for their trip without telling anyone. Now, this happens on November 13__th__ of 2025. Chapter 1 will skip ahead by about 2 or 3 weeks, going into December. _

_It's already a third of the way finished. This story will be about the children, NOT Sly or Carmelita. Remember, I do NOT kill any canon characters unless it's reasonable. For example, doing a story in the future means that people like McSweany are either dead, or about to die because of their age. Otherwise, I do not kill Canon characters unless I have the intent of somehow bringing them back. _

_Finally, I want to tell you that I've not yet figured out a short story plot for 'A Cooper Christmas' just yet… I have two ideas – one is based on the twelve days of Christmas, the other is based on ringing in the New Year, which happens near Christmas time anyhow. _

_For those of you who like seeing Sly and Carmelita, I'll understand if you close out this story and stop reading it until much later when they reappear. For those of you who DO stick with this story, there WILL be flashbacks and conversations about Sly and Carmelita together, but they won't BE in any chapters until much later on. This is about Conner Cooper, Sly's fourteen-year-old son. It's about what happens to him. His sister, about 18 or 19 in age, will also play a part in the story but it's mostly about him. _

_I hope you enjoy it. After all, it was you, the reader, who requested this!_

_-Kit_


	2. Chapter 1

"**Dawn of Progeny**"

By:

Kit-Karamak  
Aka  
Ken Weaver

**DISCLAIMER**:

_THIS is a story about Sly and Carmelita's __**CHILDREN**__. If you DISLIKE that kind of storyline, PLEASE don't go any further. It will save you a headache and the time you're about to waste. Meanwhile, it will save me from worrying about whether or not I've upset you. _

Legal Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only and is not to be sold or redistributed for financial gains by anyone but the sole owner of the Intellectual Property. The SLY COOPER franchise was produced by SUCKER PUNCH and published by the Sony Corporation of America. You may re-post this story, so long as it remains free to the reader. This story is not officially licensed by or in direct conjunction to the producers or publishers of the SLY COOPER franchise.

* * *

_I put the foreword at the end of this chapter, so it wouldn't eat the header. However, let me give you some info on the setting of this story…_

_This story takes place about twenty years after Spy Cooper (twenty-one years after Lament of Carmelita. Since that story was supposed to take place around the year 2,005 and 2,006 A.D., that makes this story happen in the year 2,025, Winter.) Not a lot has changed, just general technology, household appliances, security and counter-terrorism tech, and some weapons. Automobiles are greener, sanctions for pollution are tighter in most civilized countries, the UN is stronger and, in some countries, issues like racism and gender biasness have lessoned due to global maturity (an iota, but still better. The United States, for example, went from equality in women's rights in the 1920's; equality for blacks in the 1960's and, quite suddenly (less than a century later!), females and blacks are now in positions to run this country, so… I'd say that's a pretty good leap – expect some changes in __cultural maturity__ for this story! Also, I plan to give it a futuristic feel in other ways, too. Some household names become mega-brands in the future. For example, Google's 'Android' Operating System is now on par with Microsoft Windows; Macintosh now has fifteen percent of the market instead of about eight; Internet speed is on par with where Korea is, presently (over 50 mb/s in hick-ville areas) and much, much more. Transportation, security, methods of hacking security and everything else will have evolved. It's the future and some things have actually changed, believe it or not). Some things will remain similar to the modern day and age, too. Let's take a look, shall we?_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, so… yeah. Here we go!_

This story takes place in the story-arc following these stories:

Lament of Carmelita

Spy Cooper

* * *

**DAWN OF PROGENY**

* * *

Chapter -1-

_Far east Rhone-Alpes, the upper Rébuffat platform, overlooking the Swiss Pennine Alps to the east and the Rhone valley to the west…  
Mid-December 2025_

**Carmen** S. Cooper had her mother's figure. She placed her paw on the glass surface of a scanner then waited for her college identification paperwork to print out on the slot beneath an all-in-one scanner device. It churred softly then spit out a full color college enrollment identification photograph. The words along the top read, '_Winter Semester – delayed entry program_.'

She lifted the page to the light and perused the picture. A sleek vulpine muzzle, cascading brunette curls like her mother, and a bushy, ring-laden gray and black fox-like tail. The bushy brush had a fabric band wrapped tightly around the center, keeping her tail fur from getting 'poofy' not to mention unmanageable.

A young boy's voice caused her left ear to flutter. "I don't know why you're going to go through with college. There's nothing they can teach you that you can't learn for free from the Internet or by going to a museum. Learning comes from living. It seems like a rip off to pay someone else who was educated by another desk-jock who lives to research and write dissertations about the historical figure or group who went out there and did all the real work. If anything, you should be out there learning it for yourself and let others learn from _your_ hard work."

Carmen's eyes flitted over to the far left, looking at her little brother. Named after his paternal grandfather, Connor Cooper was a prodigy at only fourteen years of age. His boxy features made him look rough and tumble to the point where he was nearly the spitting image of his father. Equally like his father, he had a lithe stature and a gracefully frail waistline. She offered the boy a chastising glare. Abruptly, her leering eyes softened and a forlorn expression crossed her visage. "Conner, you're too cynical for your age."

"Shouldn't I be? Mom and dad have been missing for _three weeks_ and no one is doing _anything_."

"Don't be a curmudgeon; you're poisoning your own mind by worrying so much. Sometimes they go off together to get their lives in order."

The young teenager threw his paws into the air, standing in the doorway of her room. "Their lives have _order_? That's a joke! Order, huh? Like the time that mom kicked dad across the room when they got into a heated argument about theft?"

She brought her paws to her muzzle, trying to hold back a fit of giggles at the memory.

Connor narrowed his gaze and waved his paws outward in a frustrated manner. "That happened at my _ninth_ birthday party in front of my _friends_."

She replied to his gestures with a complacent shrug. "Connor, you know she's a cop and he's… well, he's our father. They love each other so much that when they _do_ clash, things get beyond emotional with them. Next thing you know, she's kicking him so hard he goes flying. He does a somersault, lands in a crouch across the room then they start sparring or whatever…"

"Why can't we have _normal_ parents who just scream at one another and claim to want a divorce when they fight? Why do we have parents who actually make good on their threats and actually throw one another around the house? It's not normal. It's like they hate each other sometimes."

Carmen sighed and turned away from the computer on her desk. She shook her head and folded her arms, looking at him with a tender expression. "Mom will catch dad doing something he's not supposed to be doing and so she takes it very, _very_ personally. When you love someone that intensely, you inadvertently give your mate a special power over your heart and mind. It turns into a form of control by accident. Getting that angry, passionate, intimate, exasperated or combative over something is just another way of saying that you're giving control to your spouse. Mom and dad have control over one another and so when they clash, they push one another's buttons. After two decades, they probably just needed to go on a sabbatical. _Nothing_ happened to mom'n dad."

The boy ran his fingers back through his tousled gray bangs. "And here you are focusing on something _other than_ making sure they're okay. They wouldn't leave their family without a single word, Carmen! You've heard the stories – what if Clockwerk came back?"

Carmen shook her head and stood up. With graceful strides, she crossed her bedroom and knelt down besides her younger brother. "Conner, Clockwerk hunted down _every_ Cooper for each generation he tracked – for example, he killed our grandfather, Conner, our grandmother, Maria, and had he known about dad… he would have taken our father, too. If Clockwerk still existed, and if he killed our parents_, _he would have killed _us_, too. Maybe mom was sent on a classified assignment and dad went with her."

The boy shook his head. "Dad would have told us that we'd be alone for a while," replied Conner. "He would have left you money to make sure everything was okay; mom would have left you some ridiculous grocery list, our godfather would have called to check up on us," he continued.

"… He does," she interrupted.

Conner rolled his eyes. "His calls would have been _less_ panicky and _more_ consistent. He lives a life of organization, believes in structure for children, and would have called every day at a quarter-after-noon. Instead, he calls every once in a while to see if we've heard anything about dad, out of worry. And, yet, for as much as he knows, he has no information of his own to offer us. Which reminds me – Bentley's last call was half an hour ago."

"I've not heard the phone ring at all, today," said Carmen, adding, "What time?"

"I told you – half an hour ago," the boy returned with a smirk. "I told him I was going to take the family cane out of the glass case and go look for mom and dad."

Carmen stuck her tongue out at the fourteen-year-old boy. "You know you're not even allowed to handle that thing until you're able to get through the trials at the vault. If you're not good enough to pass those tests, you're too immature to handle the cane."

"Why is that such a big deal, anyhow?"

She cocked a brow and stared at the boy for a moment then said, "Simple, Conner… if you _lost_ it there would be serious problems. You have to _earn _it. Those are the rules."

His paws drew into fists. Conner shook his head rapidly. "Are you sure you're not a _cross_ between mom and _Bentley_?" He waited for his insult to sink in then added, "Listen, Carmen, I'm starting to get a bad feeling in my gut and you know how my gut is always right. We should start calling around. Murray hasn't seen them, old man McSweeny hasn't seen them, and even Bentley has no clue. Three weeks doesn't seem normal. Mom would have left you some insane list of things to get done – that sorta stuff is in her nature but there hasn't been a single word. They just _disappeared_ for several weeks. That's messed up. I'm going to take the cane and go looking for them."

Again, Carmen's eyes softened and she sighed one more time. "Conner, you're fourteen. You're just too young for that cane. If you're truly concerned, hold it together, emotionally. Just relax. If something happened we'll be given some way of knowing."

"First of all, dad wound up with the cane as a small kid, living in a public orphanage. He was mature enough to handle it without losing it. Second of all, there have been no clues that I can tell," he told his older sister.

"Exactly my point!" exclaimed the vixen-coon hybrid. "Someone dad's caliber doesn't WANT to be found when they sneak by. But if they were abducted, there _would have been_ be clues somewhere. Think about it; they're the only people in town who could disappear easily without leaving a _single_ trace of evidence. That explains why you never found any clues – they're good enough not to leave any. _That_'s why I'm not upset – I checked the area and looked around to make sure there were no signs of foul play. Just because they didn't say 'goodbye' before leaving doesn't mean something bad happened. It's possible that mom had a classified Interpol Mission. That's just one possibility – the other is quite different… See, what I'm thinking is that dad might have upset mom and so they went off to try and clear their minds or take a vacation – I'm old enough to watch you so they just left town."

"I'm just…" He shook his head and said, "nervous. It's been three whole weeks. I'm growing nervous." He walked across her bedroom and stopped at the window.

"Slow down," she told him with a shake of her head. "I'm going to the Université de Savoie; they're a good school and I've got myself enrolled for a dual degree in…"

"…Not interested," replied Conner with a frown. "C'mon, Savoie? They're not my forte. If I was into science and engineering, I'd be proud of you. But, since I'm more interesting in getting off this icy mountain, finding my parents and… I can't stand living here anyhow. It's too quiet and cold."

"Conner," she said with a soft sigh. "Mom takes the high-speed train westbound to Lyon once a week because her office is…"

"I _know_ her position at Interpol headquarters," he snapped. After a second of silence, he frowned and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I worded it wrong; see… I understand _why_ we live here. Mom can take the bullet train west to work. We're hidden in the mountains, out of sight and out of mind… but I _hate_ France; I hate the Alps – I want to get out and see the _rest_ of the world! Starting with finding mom and dad; I've got this gut feeling and that only happens when something big went down."

"I know what it's like to be your age," she told her brother, adding, "I was there just five years ago. I wanted to go out and see everything and know everything and do everything. And yes, this place is a little desolate, but I'll be in college and there will be plenty of people for me to interact with, so I'm really looking forward to it. Everything will be back to normal by then."

"And what if mom and dad aren't back by the time you start your semester?"

Carmen shook her head with a soft giggle. "It starts in late January, that's a month and a week away. Stop stressing out, Conner! They've been gone almost three full weeks so it's a _shoe in_ that they'll be back by the time I leave. Just relax, will you?"

He stood in front of her bedroom window, looking at the ice cycles that clung to the roof, blocking the view like a row of crystalline bars. He grimaced and shook his head. "How fitting – I feel like I'm trapped in this place; I look out the window and all I see are jail cell bars. I'm going down into town."

"There's nothing down there and it's snowing." She turned back to him and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Conner, I think you're lacking in social skills from being homeschooled. How about we get you enrolled in a _real _high school? Then you'll be a real freshman."

"There are no high schools close enough." His counter caught her off balance. "You're going to live in a dormitory, Carmen – what high school has one of _those_? Forget it. I just need to go out and stretch. Why does the stupid cane have to be all the way over in Paris, anyhow?"

"Give it up, you're _not_ going to be able to _steal_ it from Bentley's lab – it would require too much work to secure it. You would need the help of someone who is proficient in network hacking. The catch is… they have to be _better_ than Bentley's system."

"That cane is mine," he retorted with disdain in his voice. "I'm the first born son and, just like you, on your sixteenth birthday, I'm going to go in there and ace those master thief trials. I want that cane; I had a dream that I needed it to find mom and dad."

She paused and looked him over. "Seriously?" Her head tilted to the left then she frowned. "So did I. That's weird."

"…Really?" He walked away from her window, shrugging her paw from his shoulder. "I can prove it, y'know."

"Will you stop?" Carmen watched him leave the room then shook her head. "It's a long ride to Paris." She received no reply and so she shook her head with a huff of frustration. She wasn't an idiot – she knew he wasn't really going into town. She didn't want to call him out on his bluff; instead, she called Bentley to give the turtle time to prepare for Conner's arrival.

* * *

Six hours later…

**Conner Cooper stepped off the train** and secured his doctored identification card. He swiveled his head from left to right then proceeded over the mezzanine, out across the food court and to an escalator. The crowded automatic staircase hummed softly, taking him to the street level and depositing him in front of the baggage claim center.

He walked to the exit and hailed a taxicab by extending his left paw. Brushing through a crowd of travelers out by the street, he emerged on the curb with two fat wallets in his right palm. He thumbed through them for cash and deposited the leather and vinyl wallets on the ground. Flashing a few euro notes in the air, a cab stopped in front of him.

The boy slid into the back seat and rolled down the window, trying to ignore the stench of the cab. "Take me to the intersection of Wiseturtle Avenue and Di'Gaul Street." In reply to his request, the driver repeated the address then eased into the accelerator pedal. With traffic, the drive lasted about half an hour. Conner slid out of the back seat, handed the man a small wad of cash then walked up the cobblestone drive of Wiseturtle Avenue.

At the end of the quaint street was a fancy driveway complete with iron wrought bars, twenty feet high. A sign marked the driveway as 'Wiseturtle _Lane'_, and between the metallic bars, delicate gossamer threads of spider silk glistened in the sunlight. Shiny with dew, they acted as a _deterrent_ to any would-be master thief, looking to get through without a trace.

Cooper knew he couldn't break the webs or anyone who knew of the glistening net, like Bentley for example, would have a clue as to his method of entry. He had to find some way into the property without disturbing the spider webs, meaning the main gates were out of the question.

Conner's logic and reasoning skills far exceeded his parents. Having been raised by them but educated by Bentley, he was academically intelligent. Having grown up in competition with his father and older sister, he had street smarts. Learning how to keep out of trouble while sharing a roof with his mother, Conner was able to utilize his abilities instinctually. A life of conditioning helped him to make quick decisions.

The teenage boy picked up three acorns and walked towards a security camera, mounted on the stone-made wall to the left of the main gate. He tossed the first small object at an angle, striking the backside of the camera. It swiveled about turning from nine o'clock to the three o'clock position. As soon as it was facing away, he broke into a sprint towards the nearby tree.

With grace and speed, he ran up halfway up the tree trunk then leapt away from it in a partial back flip. He hurdled over the wall with ease and dropped to a crouch beneath the surveillance camera. With a pause, his ear flickered at the sound of the swiveling unit. It returned back to the nine o'clock position, facing towards the nearby tree again.

A grin tugged at the corner of his muzzle, pleased with his infiltration method. He got down on his knees and moved several feet out into the yard, using his paws to feel for a lump in the grass. After several minutes, he located one of the sprinkler heads and leaned his head down. He tilted his head and bit down on the nozzle then further pushed his face into the grass to clamp on it with his molars. Once the metal tip was sufficiently marred, he crept back to the wall.

In complete silence, Conner moved along the stone parameter until he came to the next wall-mounted camera that sat perched at the top. He waited directly beneath it then reached into his pocket for the second acorn. It landed on a street alley, leading out to Di'Gaul Street. The small round object bounced along the concrete, causing the security camera to turn about, facing away from the courtyard.

A quick sprint took him across the grass, where he dove behind the maintenance shed. Having played here throughout his youth, Conner knew of a loose plank behind the shed. He eased it open, snuck inside and pulled the plank back into place behind himself. The raccoon clinched his eyes shut for a few seconds to help dilate his pupils. Those twin amber hues fluttered open and he approached a dimly illuminated control panel on the wall. With the flick of his wrist, he activated the automatic timer for the sprinkler system, which seldom activated this time of the season. He programmed the digital control panel to return to its previous setting in one hour. This would remove any evidence that he'd tampered with the unit.

He adjusted the automatic timer to activate in four minutes then left the shed through its front door and closed it. He scaled a nearby drainpipe then carefully followed it along the edge of the roof, staying along the bottom side of the roofline to keep below the rooftop surveillance. His arms, paws and legs began to ache before too long. Once Conner reached a second utility shed, he dropped from the roof and extended his legs.

Conner's feet connected with the top of the small garage. He sank into an immediate crouched position to absorb the impact of his fall in order to remain silent. He crawled on his belly to the far end of the small building and waited. About thirty seconds later, the sprinkler system activated. Because of the clamped nozzle out in the front yard, a diagnostic system notified a computer of a malfunction. After only a short wait, the garage doors opened and a repair robot launched itself out into the yard.

The clever raccoon dropped from the roof, swinging his legs in through the garage door, just before they reclosed. He dashed to the backside of the small brick building and opened a metal hatch in the back corner. Having memorized the layout from his youth, the young Cooper slid down the bars of a descending ladder until he reached the mansion's basement.

Patiently, he waited at the bottom of the ladder until he heard a mechanical noise from above. It was followed by a soft thud. He deduced the maintenance robot returned to its standby location and the garage doors closed again. His head swiveled from left to right, as if crossing a street then he bolted down the subterranean corridor, light on his feet. He came to an intersection with a fixed camera mounted on the ceiling. It faced away from the direction, from which he'd come to identify anyone who might try and utilize the garage as a means of escape. Fortunately, it wasn't designed to detect anyone who might have wanted to use the garage as a means of entrance.

Conner looked around the dismal cellar setting. His eyes landed on a cobweb on the backside of the camera, where the coaxial cable came from the back of the unit and went up into the ceiling. He squinted in the dim illumination and noted a large black dot, the size of a thumbnail, motionless at the center of the dusty old web. He knelt down, steadied himself, then leapt up and pinched the small object out of its neglected web.

Again, he knelt down and readied himself for another jump. The raccoon focused on the bottom side of the camera then leapt again, placing the long-dead insect and a bit of web over the lens. The clean quartz surface, now covered by the spider's body and a tiny pinch of old web, was now blinded.

A motion activated sensor caused a small red LED light to activate but after several seconds without any movement, it went dark again. To test his makeshift cover tactic, Conner stood beneath the camera and lifted his hand outwards, in the unit's field of view. The LED never came back on; its lens was sufficiently blocked.

Satisfied, the youthful thief continued down the corridor, which connected with the rest of the basement. There, located at the central hub, was a large computer workstation. Instead of a chair, there was a metal cylinder; it reached from the floor to the ceiling. Conner deduced it was a hydraulic platform that would lower Bentley from the first floor to his command center. However, with the platform in its upright position, he concluded the basement was empty.

The teenager approached the abandoned computer workstation and checked each security monitor until he located the one facing his father's cane. Unlike the other monitors, this one wasn't labeled with a location. He sighed in frustration to clear his head.

A feminine voice startled him. "It's not going to help you find your parents." Conner's breath caught and he looked around but didn't see anyone. He sniffed the air then turned in the direction of the faint scent of a mouse. It was his godmother, Penelope. She stood at the far end, watching him from the shadows. Again, she spoke. "Conner, we're just as worried as you are, sweetheart. But rash decision-making doesn't help. Taking that cane out into the public, where it could wind up lost or in the wrong paws, isn't the answer. It's the key to both island vaults – the ruins of Kane Island and the new vault beneath the Cooper Archipelago. Walking around with a key to the largest conceivably known collection of valuables and money isn't a burden meant for a teenaged boy."

He shook his head with a frown. "It's my birthright; I'll decide if I want that burden put on me. I need that cane to help me find my parents. I had a dream that I wouldn't be able to find them without it."

"Your father wanted us to keep it safe until your eighteenth birthday. Your sister tied the record for the master thief trials and you'll have to best it in order to earn it."

"Why doesn't she have the cane, then? It's her birthright, too."

Penelope stepped out of the shadow and into the soft illumination surrounding the workstation. "Conner, she wasn't interested in wielding an irreplaceable artifact like that. She didn't want to be held responsible for it, as there is only one in existence. Why don't you allow Bentley to fashion a sturdy copy that you can use? He'll fashion it from the same metal and alloy, so you can defend yourself the same way. You'll be able to disassemble it and make it into climbing hooks; you'll be able to reload it with smoke charges and it'll have most of the same functionality."

"A copy won't charge and discharge energy like the original. If I use this copy cane to strike a towering grizzly bear, I doubt it would faze him. No, I want the real thing – it's a birthright and I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"Well," she mused, bringing a dainty paw to her muzzle in thought. "The role of a godfather is to look after you if anything ever happened to your parents. With Sly and Carmelita missing in action, Bentley reserves the right to make a decision about that cane… at least until you're a legal adult."

"Once upon a time, a teenager who had a wife, plot of land and his own home was considered a legal adult. Age didn't dictate status – his situation did. With my parents missing, I'm the man of the Cooper household. I'm sorry I'm being so stubborn but I want to look for them. So far as I'm concerned, if I find them safely, I'll return the cane until I'm eighteen."

"You'll have to talk to Bentley."

Conner shook his head. "I don't have _time_ to complete the master thief trials right now. They could be out there in need of my help. I need the cane now. Whether you give it to me or I take it for myself, it doesn't much matter – I'm not leaving here without it."

"Conner, it would be much harder to steal the cane than to complete the master thief trials. Just run the trials and Bentley would probably deem you ready to handle it. I'm not saying the trials are _easy_; they're not. But, by comparison, it would be far easier to run the trials than to try and steal the cane."

"Stealing the cane would take a fraction of the time. Carmen took three days of hard work to complete the stupid trials. The fact that she tied my grandfather's record on her fifth attempt is irrelevant. I'm concerned by my timetable – adding another week to my rescue attempt could be the difference between their survival or the alternative for all we know. I don't have time to fly out to old Kane Island and run around a flooded cave, playing a family 'game'. The cane is here, in this house, and I'm not leaving without it."

"Bentley was given strict orders by your father, when you were born. He said even if he were to die, you're not to have the cane until you're mature enough to earn it. Being stubborn doesn't show me any maturity, Conner. Accepting the offer to try and prove yourself, albeit four years early, is a privilege and an honor. Why must you argue about your options?"

"Look, I could have accepted your invitation to fly out to the South Pacific and play a family game." Conner folded his arms across his chest. "Knowing the cane is required as a key to the old vault, I could have stolen it en'route and disappeared – that would have made things _very_ easy. But the truth of the matter is… I don't have _time_ to screw around. I have this feeling that my parents are in danger and I'm leaving here with the cane and heading after them."

"You don't even have the slightest clue where they could be!" Penelope ran her paws back through her short white bangs and sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice and…"

Conner unfolded his arms and thrust them outwards, shouting, "I'm going to Russia! I'll start my search by investigating that old damn volcano, to make sure they're not there!" His tone calmed somewhat and he continued, telling her, "That's where they were in my dream. That's where I'm going to look."

"…I see." She shook her head slowly and said, "Let's talk to Bentley about this. Perhaps we can work together, without the cane, and look for them as a team."

"Just give me the cane so I can get out of here." He refolded his arms.

She approached the boy, cupped his face in her palms and said, "You're determined and impassioned with ardency like your mother; you're stubborn and impatient like your father." She shook her head and looked him over then added, "You have his good looks, too. If you're half the romantic that he is, mixed with the intensity of your mother's personality, you'll be quite a Casanova."

"Also, just like my father, I'm not easy distracted. Where's your husband – I'm willing to pitch my case to him. However, if he doesn't lend me that cane, I'll have to retrieve it for myself."

The metal cylinder at the computer workstation began to lower. The platform descended from the ceiling with Bentley sitting in a chair bolted into the square section. He folded his hands, looking over the teenager in silence. After a moment, he adjusted his glasses and said, "Your dad had a soft side for women. I thought Penelope could talk you out of this nonsense but it appears you're as stubborn as both of your parents, combined. You showed promise by breaking into my house – I'm impressed. I'm sorry, though… just handing over that cane would be foolish. Your father has many enemies, just because of his family. Putting that cane on the street was dangerous. I always wondered what would have happened if Doctor M. found out he was at the orphanage? It wouldn't have been very difficult to take that cane away from a little boy – Sly was lucky because that orphanage was antiquated… see, they didn't even have a computer database, so after the death of your paternal grandparents, your father dropped off the radar until he was an adult. He didn't pop back up on the grid until your mother made a case file; Interpol's records were fairly secure back in those days. Times are different. Who knows what kinds of people are watching you, Conner. The minute you step out with that cane, someone is liable to attack you and take it."

"You're paranoid," said the boy, adding, "If you're that worried, make a copy and I'll secretly take the real one. By keeping the copy for yourself, people will leave me alone."

"It's too risky – we can't afford to lose that cane; it's the key to your father's family legacy."

"Like I said, I'll just come and take it for myself." Conner was resolute, not to be denied by anyone. "I dreamed it was necessary to save their lives. I have a bad feeling about all of this and I need to do what I can to help them."

Bentley offered the boy a proud grin. "I watched you from the time you stepped off the high speed Mag-Lev train." He cleared his throat, re-adjusted his glasses and said, "You won't be able to steal it; I studied the Thievius Raccoonus while it was in my possession, Conner. I know how to counteract everything – that cane is completely secure."

Conner balled his paws into fists, bottling his aggravation. He closed his eyes tightly trying to keep his temper in check, another wonderful trait from his mother. His sister was the one who got his father's calm demeanor.

Bentley shook his head with a roll of his eyes then glanced over at his wife. He quirked a brow at her, noting that she wasn't paying attention. The tortoise craned his neck to see what had her attention. She was focused on a computer monitor that was flickering. He turned away from Conner and watched in surprise as a malfunction message filled the screen. The computer locked up, becoming completely unresponsive.

"What happened?" asked Penelope in a soft voice.

Bentley tapped several keys to no avail. "I don't know – complete kernel panic; it's locked up. We'll have to manually restart this computer." He counted the grid of monitors on the workstation then tilted his head, glancing down at a line of computers on the floor. He counted with an extended finger, looking as though he was poking an invisible button. Finally, he said, "It's the one on the end, next to Conner's feet."

Penelope knelt down besides the last computer case in a line. She glanced up at Conner, who was still standing in silence with tight fists then rolled her eyes at him and began fidgeting with the computer case. She unplugged it, plugged it back in and turned it on.

Again, the computer locked up; this time it froze at the bios-display screen. Bentley groaned. "It won't even boot into the operating system. It's fried – I'll take it apart tonight and see if the motherboard, ram, or the CPU went up in it."

Penelope turned the computer back off and stood up. She took Conner by the wrist and said, "Follow me. Let's go and have a little talk about your temper – reality check, young man… getting angry like this doesn't help your parents. It doesn't help you if you're out in the field, doing a heist. It doesn't help _anything_. You need to learn to control it."

Conner reluctantly fell into step with her but kept his paws balled up. "I _am_ controlling it. When defeat frustrates me, I get angry – do you _see_ me lashing out? No! I'm bottling it, so give me a break."

Penelope led him to the stairs. Together, they walked up to the first floor and into the kitchen, where she fetched him a glass of water. She placed the cold glass on the counter and shook her head again. "Just stay put until you calm down. I'll be downstairs – it's highly unusual for one of Bentley's homemade machines to flake out like that." She walked away, heading back down into the basement.

Returning to her husband, Penelope knelt down in front of the computer case at the far end of the bottom shelf on the impressive sized workstation. She pushed the power button and muttered, "Third time's a charm? Well, hopefully it is, anyway."

"Yeah, right… it's locked up like a…" Bentley lifted his head to the screen, watching as the splash logo disappeared, replaced by the animated status bar. After a few seconds, the operating system loaded normally and the computer resumed its previous software functions. The turtle blinked then glanced down at his wife. "It's working normally."

She cocked a brow up at her husband and shrugged her shoulders. "It could have been a random glitch… an isolated incident. The thing is, a coincidence like that wouldn't have happened twice in a row, only to start working fine, a few minutes later…"

"Well, it certainly appears that way." Bentley shifted his attention back to the array of screens then balked in surprise. "Look! There's a digital anomaly on the second floor surveillance feed!" A red light flashed on another, smaller screen on the far end. He leaned to the right in his chair and announced, "The system reported that a fuse just blew upstairs. The circuit breaker panel is…"

"I know where it is," replied Penelope in a dry tone. "What kind of malfunction are you seeing on those screens?" She leaned in, resting a paw on Bentley's shell, at shoulder level. "That's… odd." They both took a moment to study the strange static-like interference rolling across several screens. "It looks like an electrical glitch, but the cabling for those monitors is electrically and magnetically shielded. What kind of electrical interference would cause this?"

"An ultra low level EMP," said Bentley, adding, "Those systems are shielded against that, too. A high power, alternating pulse frequency from a technologically advanced generator might have the ability to cause what we're seeing…"

"You think it's an attack on the house? Something is scrambling our systems with a localized, highly concentrated energy pulse?" Her eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Conner! He could be in danger if an enemy of the Cooper family followed him here!" She turned from Bentley and broke into a sprint for the stairs.

Bentley pressed a button on his chair's armrest and it ascended into the ceiling. In his bedroom, he slid out of the chair and into a bionic pair of what looked like pants. Metal connections inside the specially designed fabric met with metallic plates on his legs. Nanotech robots infused within his lower body came to life, powered, activated and controlled by the bionic pants. A highly evolved version of his first walker legs (A/N: _seen in Lament of Carmelita_) helped him to stand up. He walked out of his bedroom and hurried through the house, looking for Penelope.

He hurried out into the main foyer, up a grand staircase and rushed through the second floor, calling out for his wife. She replied with a distant, muffled, "Over here, hurry!"

He found one of the upstairs doors ajar and pushed it open then quickly sprinted down the hall faster than the average turtle. He came to another door that was partially open and shoved it as he barreled through. In the decorated room, there was an empty glass case at the center. Penelope stood adjacent to the display case, where an acorn sat on a velvet pillow.

"I'd given him a glass of water," she said, as though trying to make sense of how Conner could have managed to steal the cane. "Maybe he used the water to…"

"My security defense measures and countermeasures are complete waterproof," replied Bentley. "They could function beneath a hundred meters of freezing water. How could he have taken the cane? It should be impossible!"

The mouse threw her paws into the air. "I don't know! Maybe he saw that we were having computer problems and took advantage of the glitch!"

"Possible but…" Bentley hurried to a camouflaged panel in the wall and pressed a 'diagnostic' button. A small OLED panel displayed the message, "_System fault detected – four minutes ago. Reboot – three minutes, fifty-five seconds ago. Current system status: Normal. Current status of random accessed memory: Nominal. System idle – ready to activate._"

"It's in standby mode, waiting for me to arm the system," Bentley explained. "We have to find Conner! Call his sister, I'll go back downstairs and see if I can hack into the traffic-monitoring computer. Maybe I can spot him before he leaves Paris."

"Right!" Penelope pulled out her mobile phone while her husband hurried back to the basement…

* * *

A/N: _So… how did he do it? I guess you'll have to wait until chapter 2 to find out how and why Conner was able to defeat Bentley's 'impossible' anti-theft system. I'll give you a hint, though… Conner is the ONLY one capable of pulling it off… not even his sister or father could have done it. I'll explain why (and how) in chapter two. _

_YES, I'm going to finish SPY COOPER soon, but I really need to re-approach that with a fresh outlook by reading it and feeling it out. Now, I know that most people HATE "children of the main character" stories. They're original characters – people are here to read FAN FICTION about the franchise they like, which means they want to read about Sly and Carmelita and the gang… not some distant future of a possible outcome. Lol. _

_However, my Star Fox story, 'Reflections of a New Generation' was surprisingly successful. People even wanted a sequel, which also surprised me. Maybe I've just got a knack for writing about everyone's favorite characters through the eyes of their offspring or something – I don't know. I can't figure it out, lol._

_I WILL finish Spy Cooper and it –__wil__l– TIE INTO THIS STORY. I'll make them tie together very closely as I return to that piece the near future. Right now I just need to analyze it from a different perspective. That perspective comes best from looking at Spy Cooper in _hindsight_, which means writing about it in the past tense. That will happen as THIS story unfolds. _

_I've decided to name Sly's son after his own father… Conner Cooper. I've decided to name Sly and Carmelita's daughter "Carmen" after 'Carmen San Diego.' I'm not sure why, but it seemed to fit really well. _

_Don't worry, Sly and Carmelita are NOT dead. If you're a fan of my Reflections of a New Generation story, I'm NOT trying to rehash that theme in a different format. In that story, Fox, Krystal and the gang were stuck on the other side of the game's infamous warp level, the wormhole. This isn't the case with Dawn of Progeny. _

_In future games, Sly's lineage could easily show up in a new game with a different mother, different names or anything else… so everything that happens here is NON CANON, obviously. That's what Fan Fiction is… non canon. But who knows… Anything is possible. Maybe I'll get lucky and one of those guys over at Sucker Punch will read it, like the idea and take what I've done, make his or her own changes, slap a new name on it and… Voila! (The expression, not 'Viola', the instrument.) IF that happens, I'm TOTALLY COOL with it! I doubt it, though. It was a complete coincidence in Reflections of a New Generation, when I wrote about Fox and Krystal's son, only to find out a year later, halfway through the story, that Fox and Krystal would have a son named Marcus in the DS game, SF: Command, as one of the multiple endings. It was a complete coincidence. Anyhow, I hope you liked the first chapter – I have plans for this and it should be fun! _

_IF you've read this far… and you're still interested in this storyline… THANK YOU! I appreciate it! I hope it wasn't painful to swim through this chapter! See you soon, when I post chapter 2!_

_-KIT  
_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter -2-

**The Cooper cane **lay hidden in a canvas bag designed for a longneck bass guitar. The eastbound train blazed through the long, narrow tunnel through the Alps, destined for Italy. Less than twenty minutes since disappearing into the mountain tunnel, it slowed in speed. Lights flashed by the windows, lessening their pace until, finally, the tram came to a stop.

Conner Cooper stood up shouldered his bag and stepped off the train. He crossed the mezzanine with a confident, fluid stride and headed for the nearest exit. The boy glanced about to ensure he wasn't being followed than stepped onto an ascending escalator. Two stories higher, he walked across the station and headed for the nearest door. Outside, in the foothills of a mountain town, Conner began walking north towards the jagged mountain in the distance.

At the edge of town, he came to a cable car station. A thick metallic line ascended diagonally from the building and disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. He paid his fair and, soon, was whisked away by a skybox to the next mountain over. There was a skiing reservation and several lodges on the mountain with another cable car station on the north end of the peak.

He paid his fair and, shortly thereafter, was hoisted by the scenic glass-enclosed box to another mountain peak. A short hike brought him to an icy shelf that overlooked the Cooper residence; a beautiful manor built into the side of a mountain with an almost castle-like appearance. He walked along the shelf for a few hundred feet then entered a cave leading into the mountain.

The further he walked, the more the ambient temperature rose. Four hundred feet into the cavern, he came to a granite wall with a door. Conner fished out his keys, turned the lock and stepped through. He shut the door behind himself, locked it and took to a granite-carved staircase. It led down into the core of the mountain and, at the bottom, stopped at another modest looking door. To the right of the doorway was an electronic keypad. He punched in a series of numbers then used his house key to unlock the doorknob and deadbolt.

He shut the door behind himself, stepped out of his shoes, put his coat on a nearby coat rack and then removed the cane from his bag. He discarded the bag on the floor next to his shoes than gave the golden rod a twirl. "Hey, Carmen!" he bellowed, walking through the house towards her bedroom. "Tolja' I could do it! It was easier than I thought, too! The stupid force field fizzled out right while I was standing there! Talk about luck, huh?"

He opened the door to her bedroom and looked around but didn't see her. A red coat was draped over her computer chair with a matching wide-brimmed hat atop of her nearby television set. The flat panel monitor sat atop of her dresser, of which two drawers were wide open. He craned his neck to see into them without approaching the furnishing. …Socks and underwear in one drawer, t-shirts and bras in another.

"Did you hear what I said?" He turned his attention to a door at the far end of her room. "You in the bathroom? I said I got dad's cane from Bentley's house – it was easy. Lucky for me, the force field must have blown a fuse while I was in the room, eyeing the cane on its display pedestal."

Carmen stepped from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso. It came to her mid-thighs and she had another in her hair. "What girl **has **_**ever**_** had** a kid brother who was polite enough to _knock_ on his sister's bedroom door before barging in? Gee, I don't think a single one; I'm sure it must exist _somewhere_ in the world! And… yes, I know you've got the cane. Penelope called over an hour ago. No, the fuse didn't blow. Somehow, the control panel relay spontaneously reset itself while you were in the room. That's the first time, since Bentley built that system two decades ago, that this happened. Like daddy, you must have a lucky golden horseshoe on ya' or something. You'd better practice with that pole before you go out and swing it around in public."

"Dad taught me how to use a cane like this – we have the wooden one in the basement workout room."

Carmen rolled her eyes and walked to her dresser. "I used daddy's cane in the Master Thief Trials, last year. It's much different than the wooden training staff. Same weight and feel, but it's a hundred times better. You can deflect energy rounds with that – you can transfer an electrical charge into an opponent if you displace your inner chi when you swing it. It's just… different."

He nodded in reply then turned around to give her privacy. "Yeah, I'll practice with it… what did you tell Penelope when she called?"

"I told her that I hadn't seen you and that I doubted you would be foolish enough to come home where they could easily intercept it while you sleep, using a remote controlled car or chopper. Heck, I didn't think you'd come back here, either."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises," he mused, admiring the polished reflective top of the cane. "I guess it goes without saying that you've not heard from mom or dad… If Bentley or Penelope asks, just tell them I've not come home. I need to come up with a plan of attack and do some research on the computer before I leave the house. I trust you won't rat me out."

"We're a family of thieves and police officers… as screwed up as that may be, there's one thing that both sides of the family have in common, Conner… we don't snitch on one another – we handle our own affairs. Take care of your business; I won't stand in your way. I just wish you would have some patience."

He kept his eyes on the shiny cane, his back towards his sister. "If I'm making a mistake, it's mine to learn from."

"That's why I'm not getting involved," she told him. Carmen tossed her two towels on the floor and selected colorful undergarment from her dresser then cleared her throat. "I'm decent now," she added, reaching for a blouse and skirt.

He turned about then groaned. "No, you're not."

"We've gone to the swimming pool before, together… A string bikini is twice as revealing as underwear – get over yourself, you brat."

"Still…" He gave the cane another slow twirl, listening to the deep 'whooshing' sound it made, cutting through the air. "You could have taken this cane since you were the first born. The Cooper clan hasn't gone by 'first male son' since the late thirteen hundreds… although I said otherwise to Bentley and Penelope. They didn't listen to me; that's why I had to steal this thing."

She shook her head and stepped into the skirt then shimmied it up her legs. "Conner," she said with a sigh, "I have more of mom in me; I don't have any interest in that thing. I know how to use it, but I'd rather get an education and, like mom, work for some government outfit, putting my family trade and talents to a better worldly use. That cane is yours… just don't lose it."

"I won't!" he returned in a defensive tone. "People need to stop worrying that I'm going to just hand it over to someone with ill intent. Once I use it to find mom and dad, I'll give it back to them and wait until I'm eighteen. So get off my case about that!"

Carmen adjusted her blouse and checked the lay of her skirt by glancing into a nearby mirror. "Okay, you've got a bit of mom in you, too. One thing is for sure… you've got her temper; stop getting so defensive so quickly. As impatient as daddy and as flammable as mom, you're a short-fused firecracker in a shed full of gunpowder. Don't allow yourself to spark off, or things could get real ugly, real quick. Learn to control your temper before you wind up getting a quick crash course in regret." She picked up a tube of lipstick, a small makeup compact and a purse then she pulled her red long-coat from the chair and put it on. Last but not least, Carmen picked up the red hat from her television and put it on then checked her appearance in the mirror again. "How do I look?"

"Like a prettied up version of my sister," he said. "What's the occasion? You going out?"

"Not until this evening," she replied with a smile. "I just want to make sure I look right." She took off the hat and her coat then turned back to her younger brother. "C'mon, let's go downstairs and I'll teach you how to deflect energy rounds with that cane. One of mom's shock pistols is in the gun safe. I'll turn down the power settings and give you the rundown on how to do some of the things that a wooden training staff can't do…"

"Fair enough – and, yeah, you look great, Carmen." He offered her a sincere smile, equally glad for her help. "A little too comfortable with yourself but you clean up real nice."

"What can I say? Our parents were both very confident," she said, tossing the blouse onto her bed, followed by the skirt. She returned to her dresser and fetched sweat pants and a leotard. "Zip me up in the back, will you?" she asked, pulling on the comfortable pants followed by the top. The leotard's zipper started at the small of her back and ran to the neckline.

With some measure of reluctance, Conner approached her and took hold of her tail in his left hand, pulling it completely through the hole then zipping it upwards, careful not to catch any stray fur in the metal zip-line. Knowing she wasn't very ticklish, he opted to give her a playful shove. "I hope my future girlfriend has your fashion sense, Carmen. You always have an outfit for every occasion and make it look coordinated."

"Yeah, that's one thing I didn't get from our parents; go downstairs and do your stretches. I'll be down in just a moment." She gave the leotard a firm tug so that it was wrinkle free, then another lower tug so that it wasn't bunched up around her tail and crotch. Satisfied, she turned back to her bed, picked up the blouse and skirt and put them on a hanger.

Conner left the room with his bag and took the stairs to the basement. He paused in the hallway with a perked ear. For a moment, he thought he could hear talking. Slowly, he crept back towards his sister's bedroom but by the time he got to her door, she opened it. He blinked rapidly and said, "I heard talking; I thought you were saying something to me but didn't hear what you said."

"Oh, that? Just leaving a voice recording in my digital diary, Conner." The subterfuge was thick in the air; both knew the other was lying. He smiled, she smiled, the subject was dropped. Together, they walked down to the basement and turned on the lights. Florescent tubes in the ceiling flickered to life, humming softly in the ominous silence of the large room. The floor was padded and aerobics equipment lined the far wall.

At the far end of the room was a rectangular recession with a metal barrel sticking through. She sauntered to an adjacent door and manned a tripod on the other side. She leaned around the practice gun and poked her head through the opening in the wall. "Conner, get the staff out and I'll teach you how to use it to evade incoming projectiles. For this exercise, we'll start by using this tennis ball launcher. If a ball hits you anywhere on your body, you lose the exercise. From that point, we'll back up to something easier. Every time you lose, we'll back track – you'll have to work forward and progress back to where you left off in order to move forward. It's more time consuming but it adds a measure of urgency and importance to the training. No one likes moving backwards so it'll motivate you to progress. I'll start slow and we'll go from there."

With a nervous chuckle, he licked his lips and removed the cane from the canvas bag. He could hear her dumping a bucket full of tennis balls into the loading bin. "You're ten times more graceful and talented than me… how did _you_ train?"

"Don't worry about my training – I'm the trainer, now… I'll have you doing ballet while juggling flamethrowers in just a few days if you work with me. Some things require making mistakes in order to learn. Sometimes, you just need a patient person to guide you. Other times, it's best to learn under fire." And, without further warning, she turned on the tennis ball launcher.

Fuzzy greenish-yellow orbs launched from the turret set into the wall. Conner tensed up, using the cane as a shield. He pushed it outwards, bunting the tennis balls gently. Occasionally, one would bounce straight up into the air while most of them bounced back across the floor in the direction from which they'd come.

Carmen waited until the last of fifty-five balls ejected from the machine then she began to gather another bucket load. "Conner, you look comfortable with dodging a barrage of objects but you're not being graceful. Standing there and batting them out of the air _is_ impressive but it's best if you evade them, too. Move around, be a difficult target. That will give you the chance to focus on the weapon. Every so often, you can try and bat one back at the gun barrel. I want you to try and move around and, when you're able, hit a line drive – send the round back from where it came. On occasion, you can stop the offense. Remember, sometimes the best defense is a really good offense." She stole a glance at him and smiled to herself, seeing that he wasn't yet ready.

The tennis ball gun fired again, hurling a volley of high-speed objects at the boy. He hurried to the left and she rotated the launcher to her right in pursuit. He came up to the nearest wall at full speed, put his leg out, bound off the wall with a twist and hit the ground running in the opposite direction. With the machine now firing at a higher rate, he knew that stopping to use the cane would get him nailed. He also knew that it only held fifty-five balls in the loading bucket and that she only dumped one bucket into the machine at a time.

Conner lifted the cane then slammed it down on the ground as if to use it as a pole vault but, to his astonishment, a puff of thick smoke clouded up around his body. He pivoted hard and dove for the wall, rolled over and crawled back the way he came. Tennis balls passed over him at a rapid pace – he knew the machine was getting low. He jumped up and swung the cane at a throng of incoming balls. His cane met with seven, sending five in random directions. One went towards the wall with the ball launcher, while the other one hit the floor, bounced up and arced through the hole in the wall.

None of them hit the tennis ball gun but as soon as the last ball ejected from the barrel, he charged the turret. Conner hooked the cane around the barrel and twisted his wrist quickly, pulling it from the rotating mount. It fell to the floor at Carmen's feet, spilling a fresh bucket of balls all over the ground on the inside of the wall.

"I'm ready to move on!" he announced.

She folded her arms across her buxom chest. "That was half beginner's luck and half a display of complete impatience."

Conner returned the gesture with a smirk. "In two rounds, you didn't hit me a single time. Dad always said, 'if you don't win a fight in the first ten seconds, your chances of winning grow slimmer.' I had to do what it takes to get through unscathed before it wears me down."

"Fair enough." She picked up a ball and chucked it through the slat in the wall, beaming him in the forehead. "Be prepared for a surprise attack." Then she told him, "There will be more fun with the tennis balls tomorrow. For now, let's move on. Oh, and you better help me clean these up when we're done. _Before_ I go out, tonight."

"Okay, okay." He lifted his paws defensively. "What's next?"

"I'm going to get mom's ancillary shock pistol and I'm going to turn off the lights. I'll be using night vision and your job is to defend yourself. I'll keep moving – your only clue to my location comes from watching where the energy blasts are originating. You'll have to guesstimate my location and try to subdue me while completely blind."

"Hey…! That doesn't sound very fair."

A sly grin tugged at Carmen's muzzle, spreading from left to right. "_You're the one_ who is in a rush to progress to the next exercise." She stepped back through the door and waggled her eyebrows. "I'll be back in a moment. You'll know because I'll turn the lights out and open fire without any warning – just like real life. My suggestion to you is to clean up these tennis balls. Counting the two you managed to hit back into my turret pit, I do believe you have only a moment or two to rally up one hundred eight balls. Whatever is left on the floor when I return counts as a metaphor prop – something to simulate a dangerous environment like what you'd encounter in real life should you ever have to defend yourself in the dark this very same way."

"I…" His eyes blinked twice then he quickly ran to the far end of the room and used his cane to push all the balls towards the wall, in order to get them out of the middle of the floor. Initially, his plan was to make it dangerous for her in the dark, but he remembered her words about the night vision goggles and opted to clean them up. He laid his cane on the floor and used it to herd the large collection of rolling object. With about three quarters of them in his collection, he quickly began scooping them through the rectangular hole in the wall with his paws.

Before he could go back for the last thirty-some-odd balls, the lights went out. He hurried towards the entrance door, slammed the cane on the floor and retreated across the floor, trying not to step on any balls. He recalled that most of them were still back by the entrance door and far wall, opposite of the ball launcher.

"Clever," she said. Her smooth, calm voice gave him a measure of orientation in the darkness. He heard a soft 'thwak' and frowned, knowing that she was kicking a few of the balls out into the middle of the floor. He hadn't anticipated such a stunt and it frustrated him.

Quite suddenly, a low-power blue energy orb hurtled across the room. He moved away from it, trying not to look directly at it. The brilliant blue-white orb made it difficult to maintain pupil dilation. His eyes didn't adapt to the darkness, leaving him blind to everything but the projectiles. His temper flared up and he clinched the cane tightly in his paw. More blue shots lanced through the void, narrowly missing him. As she strafed the room, kicking more balls out into the middle of the floor, she increased her pace of attack.

Finally, the twenty-third shot caught him in the shoulder, throwing him down with excessive force. The powerful jolt stunned him, stealing away his motor skills. He lacked coordination and equilibrium.

"I guess we have to revert to the tennis balls!" she exclaimed. "I'll get the lights!"

"No!" he shouted, getting to his knees. "The tennis balls are _stupid_! All they do is make a mess! Get on with it! Again!"

Carmen furrowed her brows then aimed at her brother and fired again. Unable to evade from the numbing sensation of pins and needles in his muscles and joints, Conner saw the orb coming right his way. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him on his rump. He on his rear, looking dazed and confused.

"I'm the trainer," she snorted in disdain. "If you're not going to listen and display good sportsmanship then why am I wasting my time? Maybe Bentley and Penelope are right – the cane should go back. If you lose your temper in the field, you'll lose the cane just as quickly."

A quick hot Latino rage, his mother's blood, flowed through him. He clinched the cane tightly and it began to glow brightly at the head. Carmen sighed, took aim, and fired again. This time, the trembling raccoon boy launched himself forwards and jerked the glowing cane in a sweeping motion, from left to right. "Rah!" he shouted in anger, throwing his weight into the swinging motion. The head of the cane met the shock pistol round, redirecting the momentum of the round.

The bright blue ball streaked through the darkness and struck something on the ceiling. A dazzling flash caused a blinding flair in Carmen's night vision goggles. They went completely dark and the battery meter at the lower right corner dimmed. She reached for the light switch and jerked the goggles from her head then looked down at the shock pistol. The battery cell in the handle flashed a '_one percent_' label, an image with an encircled battery with a slash over it, and auto ejected from the handle of the weapon.

She lifted her head and saw where the deflected orb had struck one of the lights. Along the rest of the ceiling, only the bulbs closest to the walls were working. All of the bulbs directly above Conner were darkened, having burnt out.

Carmen looked down at her goggles and gun then looked back up and walked out into the middle of the room. "There's no way that many bulbs would have blown at the same time from just one shock pistol blast." Again, she lowered her gaze to the objects in her paws. "Both the goggles and the pistol were at full charge…"

Panting, Conner threw the cane onto the ground. "You saw it, right? It was glowing before the shock pistol round hit it. I swear; you did see it glow, right?"

"I saw it – it caused a slight flare in my lens." She tilted her head. "That's normal, Conner. You can channel energy into the cane. It'll glow then you swing it at an enemy for a really powerful wallop. But that's not what has me concerned. Somehow, most of the lights above you have blown out. Not only that, the goggles and shock pistol has dead batteries."

"Yeah? So? The same thing happened at Bentley's house – that's how it was so easy to take the cane, Carmen. Remember? You said they told you the system randomly rebooted itself. Big deal – it's a coincidence. The energy shot hit the lights, it caused some sort of circuit overload; an electrical anomaly killed the batteries on your gun and night vision. Big deal – everything can be explained."

"There has to be an explanation better than that," she replied with a frown. "Listen, Conner, I want Bentley to run some tests on you. So far, the only commonalities in both instances involve your anger."

"I stole the cane! I'm not going back to Bentley until I found mom and dad, else I'll look STUPID!"

"Will you _calm down_, Conner? What if there's something going on here that we need to know? This could be serious. If you're so damn concerned, hide the cane – we'll come back for it after the tests."

"I'm _not_ going back there and that's _final_!" He took a deep breath, cleared his throat followed by another deep breath, and then sighed. "See? I can calm down. I can control my temper – I can't help that I got mom's 'hot-headedness.' Okay, so your gun-in-the-dark exercise is done… what's friggin' next?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Let's take five while I run a diagnostic on the shock pistol." She saw that he remained ramped up, breathing heavy, and his tail fur was puffed up. She felt bad for her younger brother and approached him. Carmen dropped the goggles and gun on the ground and gently wrapped her arms around him. He immediately calmed – his pulse lowered and his anger lessened in its intensity.

"I… I'm sorry, Carmen. I don't know what came over me. I guess I can understand how mom sometimes reacts the way she does towards dad. Puberty sucks." He rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed through his nose in a semi-defeatist manner.

"Yeah, adolescence is hard for us both – it's a lot of hormones and confusion… and with our parents missing, I know you're a little…" She paused to think of the right wording then cleared her throat and said, "on edge. Look, you've proven to Bentley and Penelope that you were crafty enough to steal a cane from their so-called perfect safe but why don't you return it? You don't need the cane to look for mom and dad, you know."

"Yes, I do. You've heard the stories about Clockwerk. When that lady who betrayed mom stole Clockwerk's body," he paused, trying to remember the name.

"She called herself Clock-la," replied Carmen, stepping back from her brother.

"Yeah, her; when dad jumped on that thing's back he used the cane to beat her out of the sky. Do you think a wooden stick or a forty-five caliber round would have had any effect? Because if it did, Clockwerk would have been defeated by someone other than dad, a long time ago."

Carmen shrugged. "But Clockwerk _is_ dead. He's not been seen since he was rebuilt and, even at that point, he was eventually destroyed and Bentley owns his CPU, the hard drives and everything else."

The teenage boy couldn't help but smirk. Conner stuffed his paws into his pants pockets and said, "It sounds akin to keeping your enemy's soul in a glass bottle so you can poke'em with a stick. Why didn't Bentley destroy all that stuff?"

"Clockwerk's brain was the only microchip-based portable computer capable of setting a new standard in the Turing test for Artificial Intelligence." Carmen picked up the goggles and the pistol and tucked them both beneath her left arm. She opened her right arm to him and offered another quick hug. "Keep your chin up, sweetheart. You've a lot to learn but you have way more potential as a fourteen year old than I ever did at that age. I did horrible against the tennis ball exercise for at least a week. You _know_ how calm I am and just how focused I can be. I tried for hours at a time for six days straight. I'd always get hit by one or two just before the gun would go empty, every time. It was hard to dodge fifty-five tennis balls at one time. You did it on your very first try."

Paws lifted, Conner shrugged in reply. "They come out slow enough that I can eyeball them and move the way I want."

"I don't feel that way," she replied. "I'm overloaded by a lot of moving objects. I try to look for gaps in the spread."

"Not me," he told her with a slight smile. "I look for the thickest group of balls, swing at them and _make_ it my gap. If they're a concentrated clump of balls, it makes things easy – I can just swat at that group, you know? Especially the way you shoot a line from left to right – I just take a swing and hit all of them. If you moved the gun up and down, I might not have made it on the first try."

She face-faulted. "I _did_ move it up and down."

"Oh. Well, maybe I was just lucky."

Carmen shook her head. "No… the first round, you stood there like a big bolder, just batting them out of the sky without fear. Then, in the second round, you were untouchable on your feet, like a… I mean, you were as fast as a…" She lifted her paws and said, "I've got nothing – I've never been much of a metaphor user, but you know what I mean. I was impressed."

"Is that why you wanted me to do it again?" he asked. "You wanted another chance to hit me with a tennis ball?"

"Maybe." Carmen grinned and gave him a playful shove. "I still think you can get around just fine without that cane. If anything, it holds you back by tying you down in a sense. I don't like feeling inhibited. Having that long, un-concealable stick with its enormous hook on the end… it's just not making my life easier, in my opinion."

"Yeah?" Conner gave the cane a slow twirl off his knuckles and back into his palm. "I feel liberated just having it in my paw."

"To each their own, I suppose." A sigh, then, "Conner, have you ever thought that maybe it was _you_ that caused this stuff to go dead?"

He waved his free paw in a dismissive manner. "I doubt it. That's a crock of crap. At the very least, a person has the ability to kill a watch battery after a week of wearing it because of their body chemistry. What your suggesting is on a whole different scale – it's just not possible."

"I consider myself pretty logical," she mused, tapping a fingernail against her lower lip. "And I've eliminated every other possibility that I can think of. Seriously, I think you should have Bentley run tests on you. He said there's absolutely no reason his system should have rebooted the way it did. He said the mathematical probability for _all_ the backup and countermeasure systems to reboot at exactly the same time is less than one-tenth of a percent."

"Well, so far as I'm concerned, it's still a coincidence."

Carmen turned about and walked towards the door. "Get yourself tested – if there is something different about you, the family will want to know if it poses a danger to you." She stopped at the doorframe, glanced over her shoulder and said, "What if you do have some sort of ability to cause electronics to short out? Let's say you get into an elevator on the top floor, but you cause it to short out, the emergency brakes fail and it kills you…? That would be a really _stupid_ way to die, Conner."

"First of all, when does _any_ Cooper use an elevator? Ever? Seriously? And if it happened on a cable car, coming home from town… I'd kick out the window, jump up and use the hook of my _cane_," he waved it in the air, "to slide down without a problem. Just relax, will you? I'm not going to blow myself up by accident, the next time I log onto the Internet, just because I've coincidentally been around a few pieces of faulty equipment."

"I…" She frowned and walked out of the room, adding, "I don't know what to say to that." She moved through the door way and up the stairs. "Be right back, I'm going to run a diagnostic to see if the electronics were fried in these, or if the batteries simply died – they were fully charged earlier and unless the cells are dead in these batteries, I need answers as to what happened." Her voice faded as she continued up the stairs.

Conner brought the cane close and studied it for a moment beneath the remaining dim lights. "I'm not convinced it's me. Maybe it was the cane – maybe it did this; I've never shorted anything out in the past. Not until I was in the room with this cane, at least." He picked up his canvas bag by the wall and replaced the cane into the bag then walked upstairs. "Hey, Carmen! Wait up, I have another theory for you to consider!"

* * *

_One week later…_

**Conner stopped his pacing** and stared out the window. It was the day after Christmas and he'd still not heard a single word from his parents. His gaze shifted to the golden cane in the corner of his bedroom. He cupped his left wrist in his right palm, coddling a bruise from a training exercise that occurred two days ago.

His ears perked, hearing the front door close, downstairs. He walked away from his bedroom window, moved out into the hallway and leaned over the banister rail. "Hey, Carmen… that was one hell of a Christmas Party – you were gone over eighteen hours! Too drunk to drive home?"

"Yeah, I guess I drank a little," she called from down in the foyer. "I'm okay, though. I'm sorry I didn't call you – my cell phone battery was really low, so I turned it off incase I had to make an emergency call. Then, after the third or fourth glass, I took a nap on the pool table, so my phone was off all night." She made her way to the stairs but looked well rested and, other than faded makeup and wrinkly clothes, she appeared clean and wholesome.

"Yeah, I left you two voice mails," he told her with a slight shrug. He intercepted her at the top of the stairs. "First Christmas Party as an eighteen year old… I don't think mom would have approved." He approached her and sniffed. "You don't smell like booze, though."

"I washed my face in a bathroom sink; I'm not the kind of girl to walk around reeking of spiced rum. Big house party, though. I saw a few girls I knew from middle school. I really wish we weren't home schooled throughout Senior High School."

"Why? It's a drag, I'm sure. Lots of adolescent people acting as your judgmental peers. Forget that."

Carmen shot him a scolding glare. "Senior prom? Extracurricular programs with friends, cute outfits and boys in tight shirts leaning back against their lockers, watching you pass… I missed _all_ of that."

A single brow rose. Conner tilted his head somewhat and frowned. "Really? You didn't strike me as the type of girl who would care for any of that stuff. Maybe Prom, but certainly not looking at boys. You're not that type – you're my sister."

She offered him a sly little smile. "I'm glad I have you fooled. I'm girly when I want to be." She came to the last stair, reached up and patted his cheek then blew by him. "I'm in need of a hot shower then I'm making lunch… if you want some, I'll make enough for both of us."

"…Okay. No self respecting male of _any_ age would turn down a home-cooked meal." He coughed into his paw then said, "Since we only spent a few hours together yesterday morning, I might as well reiterate the sentiment. Merry Christmas, Carmen."

"You, too! Thanks for the bracelet and matching bangle." She lifted her left paw into the air and waved it to show off the tennis bracelet; an armlet of matching color sparkled on her right wrist. "I've always wanted a Tiffany's; I appreciate it."

"I'm glad you like it," he replied with a sheepish grin. Both knew it was stolen, but it was the thought that counted. Knowing he had to take it on a trip to New York City last August meant travel time, planning and going through the pain of not getting caught by his own mother, who was present during the trip. It was an unspoken rule in the family… working for the present was more respectable than slaving for poor wages then blowing it all on one gift.

She walked down the hall and stepped into the bathroom. He went to her room and fetched her bathrobe when his eyes fell on a small plastic card on the floor by her bed. He picked it up and inspected the card. It read, '_Security LvL 3 clearance._' He placed it on her nightstand then carried the towel out to the hallway and draped it over the bathroom doorknob. "I left your robe out here for you. It's on the knob. I'll be in my room." He went back to his personal quarters and stretched out on his bed again, bored to silence.

Ten minutes passed and he reached for his laptop, rolling onto his side. It booted into the operating system and he opened the application for his Internet browser. It loaded into one of his favorite newsreels, which opened a panel of all the top news stories in the last day. A headline, third from the top, caught his eye.

It read, '_Interpol refuses press conference in regards to missing agent._' He closed his paws into fists, took two deep breaths then used his knuckles to tap on the track pad, below the space bar. The page loaded, displaying an older photograph of his mother. His breath caught and he swallowed hard.

The article read like a dime novel with run-on sentences and unprofessional grammar. '_…When several of her coworkers began asking questions. An unofficial interview came from anonymous workers who tipped off reporters, wanting them to push the issue by 'asking questions' of Interpol. The official report from Interpol is that Carmelita M. Fox, the Latina Darling of the Lyon Office, is on a personal sabbatical. It became known to the press that her direct supervisor has neither been notified, nor has he assigned any personal leave time for the vulpine agent known for her looks and her flair for weaponry. Calls to her personal cellular phone have not been answered and Interpol's spokesperson declines to comment further at this time. Interpol's representatives continue to stress that she is on a private holiday vacation and does not wish to be disturbed._' Then, something in the next paragraph stuck out like a sore thumb. It caught his attention and caused his jaw to fall slack. '_Dated Christmas Eve, a photograph of Carmelita Montoya Fox surfaced from an ATM security camera. The anonymous tip, working for the bank security office recognized Carmelita's photograph from the news before going through the grouping of cameras' footage, a routine task that happens every other day of the week._'

"Carmen!"

His door creaked open on its hinges and his sister stood there with a towel in her hair, clad in her bathrobe. "I'm here; what's going on?"

"Mom's in the news."

Her eyes widened with shock and confusion. "The _news_? What the _hell_ is she doing in the news?" She approached the side of his bed and leaned down to look over him, taking a moment to read the screen. After a moment, having finished the article, she reached over him and guided the mouse to the 'back' button. She opened an Internet-based image search and moved the cursor into the search box. '_Carmelita Fox ATM photograph._' Within seconds, the returns showed several grainy pictures.

"That's definitely her," said Conner with a frown. "I thought those cameras were pretty crisp? Why does she look so grainy?"

"I'm thinking she was in motion at the time." Carmen stood up and took the towel from her hair. "They blurred the face of whoever was standing at the ATM at the time the camera saw her face in the distance. If you ask me, that proves she's alive and fine. They'll be home when they're finished whatever it is that they're doing. It's probably classified. If you go poking around, you might blow her cover."

"Yeah?" Conner smirked. "I could always go to that bank, look at the original, run his face through a hacked database and…"

Carmen quickly interrupted. "You're SUCH a child, sometimes! Shh!" As soon as he quieted, she sighed and told him, "First of all, if the blurred face person doesn't have a photo on record with the police department, you would have to have program capable of searching online photograph servers, like MySpace, Facebook, E-Dating services and any popular social circle sites used in Russia. Even then, there's a good chance that Mister Blurry-Face can't be found that way. Then, you have to find someone with far better hacking skill than you or me. Why? So you can hack into the Russian Department of Motor Vehicles, or the Russian Ministry of The People, if he has some sort of photographic identification. You can always _hope_ he has a passport, because you _might_ get lucky there. Right now, your probability of finding this guy with_out_ getting caught is pretty slim."

"It may be blurry, but he looks like he's looking over his shoulder at her."

She sighed in frustration. "Conner, cut it out. That's impossible to tell by the way his face is blurred out. He could be a she, he could be looking a hundred different ways, he might be…" she froze, catching his attention. "Chri'sake, she's got her gun drawn."

"Pardon?" Conner turned his attention back to the computer, opened the largest thumbnail offered at the top of the search results and enlarged it. "I think you might be right, Carmen." The image of his mother was half covered by the blurry-faced ATM user in the foreground. After close augmented examination, they could make out a metallic object in her paw, which was partially covered by the pixilated face. "That proves it – we need to track the original photograph, so we can see if her gun is visible where this guy's head begins."

"No, the pixilation begins just inside the bordering of the face. The blurring software doesn't overlap or go beyond the facial parameter. It won't help."

"But if we get the original, we can have a date and time that this was found so we can place her in front of that ATM at the exact moment of…"

"Conner!" She placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. "Stop making this ATM snapshot into a chew toy! You're acting like someone's pet with a new chewy bone, attacking it from every angle all at once, because you're so excited you just don't know what else to do with it."

"…What?" He looked up at his sister, his brows furrowed.

She shrugged, paws out to the side. "Seriously, look at the date-time stamp at the bottom." She reached over him and tapped a fingernail on the flat notebook screen. "There's the hour, there's the minute… but there are no seconds… so it's not motion video. As soon as the user pressed 'enter' after putting in his PIN code, the camera snapped one image. There _might_ be a video, but _this_ isn't it or there would be a 'second' counter on the clock, to show the progression in the footage. Do you really think the system admin at this bank has time to sit through a full day's worth of footage several times a week? He just flips through a few photographs and moves on to the next task on his work list."

"You sure know a lot about this stuff."

She drew her paw back from the screen, snatched his jaw and turned his head so that they were facing one another. "I'm a Cooper – I _know_ banks and how not to get caught by one. Stay focused. This is a dead end lead, except to prove she's alive. Why it doesn't have a date, I don't know," she said, releasing his jaw from her grip. "But one thing is for sure… it's recent. Look at her pants."

"Yeah? So?"

"She got those pants the first week of November, Conner!"

"How in the heck would I know that?"

Her jaw dropped wide open, gawking at her brother as if in disbelief. "We were _with her_ the day she _bought them_! You're supposed to be a Master Thief in _training_! You should be observant to _everything_. I hold you to a higher standard than the average fourteen year old boy – get it together."

"If she _does_ have her gun drawn, it's proof-positive that she's in trouble and I should go and help them."

Carmen shook her head rapidly. "No! It's proof that she's probably on the job! You shouldn't bother someone while they're at work, Conner. If Interpol is doing their best to cover up her current mission then it's because she's undercover, doing something classified, or she's doing something dangerous, bordering on breaking international laws to bring in someone who could be politically connected. Give… it… a… _rest_."

"Will you stop over reacting?" He turned towards her, sat up on the bed and folded his arms. "For all we know, she could have her gun drawn because she's mad at dad, again."

"She's alive – why can't you just be satisfied with that? I'm sure she's probably wrapping things up in Russia and will be home soon. If you left now, they'll probably be mad when they get home. I don't want to get yelled at for letting you go off to another country by yourself. Then you'll get lost, or worse – someone who doesn't like the Cooper family will go after you for that cane."

"Okay, I don't want to argue with you anymore." He closed the laptop lid, slid off the mattress opposite of her and walked out of the bedroom. "Let's go downstairs and train so I can…"

"No, they're alive," said Carmen. "We know everything is okay, now. No more training – that will come from dad. The cane goes back to Bentley, right now."

"Incidentally, how do you know that ATM photo was taken in Russia?"

Carmen rolled her eyes, balled up the towel that was in her hair earlier, and tossed it at him. He batted it out of the air and gritted his teeth. Seeing that he was growing obsessed and upset, she took a deep breath and, in a relaxed voice, told him, "The word "Postal Service" is etched into the granite sign of the building behind mom's head… _in Russian_."

"Clockwerk holed up in Russia and…!"

"Conner!"

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll take the stupid cane back _right now_, but only on one condition."

Relief washed over her facial features. "Yeah?"

"You let me go by myself. I'm ramped up right now and a quiet walk, let alone a quiet train ride to Paris will give me time to get at myself."

She ran her fingers through her bangs and nodded. "You went and took it, by yourself. I supposed you're capable of going alone, one more time. But if you don't call me upon arrival, I'll call Bentley and Murray to come and get you from Russia. You may think you're the best Master Thief you know, but those boys know your father so well, they'd be able to find you anywhere in the world in a matter of minutes… and if we have to come to Russia and get you… your ass is grass and I'm…"

"Don't be tacky," he quipped, adding, "Not many brothers feel threatened by their older sister… I don't, either." His expression broadened into a Cheshire grin. "I'm a Cooper – you can trust me."

Carmen lifted a single eyebrow and simply said, "Bull _shit_." She folded her arms again and shook her head.

"That wasn't very lady like," he replied with a snarky grin. "Look, I'll call you when I get off the train, okay? I think I'll take a nap during the trip." He walked back into his room and began packing his essentials. He waited until Carmen's attention was redirected and put his passport into his messenger-style bag. "It's not like I'm a helpless child. I don't need you patronizing me or my abilities."

He continued packing important things into his bag, including a handheld GPS navigator, an old fashion compass, a spiral notebook and Fischer space pen, clean socks and underwear then he walked back to his bed. Conner packed his laptop and its charger, his cellular phone and retrieved his wallet from the nightstand. He removed the Euros, crumbled the paper notes and put them into his pocket, then put his wallet into the inside pocket of his favorite vest and offered his sister a smile. He walked to the other end of his bedroom, grabbed the canvas bass-guitar bag with the cane and shouldered it. "I love you, Sissy – I'm sorry I get temperamental and I'm sorry for… y'know, stuff."

She nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Have… a safe trip, Conner." She wasn't naïve. "Stay below the radar – you know what a magnet that cane can be. That's why it doesn't stay at this house."

"I know, I know… same with the Thievius Raccoonus… it stays with Bentley, behind electronic defense systems." Conner cleared his throat. "I thought he built all those systems to be shielded from electronic pulse disruption? Like I said, I'm sure it was a coincidence that I was able to steal the cane from him. I won't admit to it around anyone else, though. I kinda' like the idea that they're impressed I managed to pull it off… let's keep it our secret, okay?"

"It'll be our personal family secret," she replied with a genuine smile. "Please, be _careful_ with that silly stick." Carmen paused for a moment then told him, "Don't make me come and rescue you. Call me from Paris."

"I'll call you as soon as I get off the _train_, Carmen." Conner walked out into the hallway with his chin held high and his chest puffed out. Back in the bedroom, Carmen shook her head, waited until he was gone then hurried back to her bedroom to get dressed. Stockings, skirt, blouse, red long-coat and the fantastic wide-brimmed crimson hat…

* * *

A/N: _A COOPER CHRISTMAS has become a tradition. I've not forgotten about it. I've purposely waited until AFTER Christmas to update it and you'll see why when I write it then post it. Rawr. _

_I hope you guys like this story so far. Things will get 'exciting' from here on out, obviously. Yay!_

_-Kit _


	4. Chapter 3 AND Chapter 4

Chapter -3-

**The cell phone's dialing tone chirped in warning**. Conner pulled it from his ear to glance at the display screen. The 'roaming' icon was in the upper left corner. He eased the handset back to the side of his face just as his sister picked up on the other side. "I'm here, Carmen. I'm not stopping by Bentley's just yet – I wanna take a quick detour before heading there."

"Yeah, yeah. You're probably not even _in_ France anymore." Her vocal tone was challenging but not harsh or critical.

"Hey, I have some Cooper things to take care of – don't get your panties in a bunch."

Her tone quickly changed to something a little more chastising. "Conner, that's not exactly something a brother says to his older sister." She sighed and cleared her voice then told him, "If I'm not here when you get back to the house, don't get bent out of shape. Remember, I told you I was going out tonight."

"See you when I see you."

Again, her tonal quality changed. It became more somber in a sense; she sounded a little defeated, opting to drop the charade. "I know you're in Russia. Please be careful and call me if anything comes up. I trust you won't do anything stupid or wind up on the news with that cane. I expect to hear from you before New Years, young man. I love you."

Conner blinked. He drew the phone from his face, glared at the colorful display, swallowed, brought the phone back to his ear and swallowed again. He felt frustrated by the fact she knew him so well. His free paw closed into a tight fist, he clinched his eyes shut, sighing to try and keep his temper in check. "I love you, too. I'll let you know when I've found them."

"I have a gut feeling that they're there on business. If that _is_ the case, make sure that you do _not_ interfere with their mission. Don't become directly involved or make a scene. Stay low, keep your nose clean and if you question your adolescent common sense decision making, _please_ call me for advice."

He tightened his jaw and glared at the concrete parking space outside of the train station. "I kinda' hold it against you that you're not here helping me."

"Mom is alive, they're fine. If Interpol has to lie about her whereabouts," she said with a thoughtful sound of tone, as though she was pondering how to word her statements carefully, "then it's obvious that they're hiding something on _purpose_. Interfering with an International Police Investigator is a _stupid_ thing to do. They wouldn't have missed Christmas unless it was extremely important. You know how special this time of the year is for mom. Believe it or not, before we were born, she hated Christmas. Now it's a special time for her and she wouldn't miss it unless a serious, important and _very_ classified job came up. You didn't listen when I said to stop getting involved so do me a favor and take my advice when I tell you _not to impede_ her duty. It might distract them and _that_ could jeopardize their wellbeing. Do it for them, to keep them safe, okay?"

Conner grew silent, trying to digest her lecture. Finally, he offered a meager, "Okay, Sissy – I'll keep it real, alright?"

"Just making sure – because _damn_, Conner, you've gone out of your way _not_ to keep _anything_ real so far. Anyway, let's not argue about this anymore. You're already in Russia with dad's cane and I'm here, getting ready for this social event that will undoubtedly yield an unwanted interview with the media."

"How so?" He shifted gears, leaving the anger, frustration and misunderstanding behind.

"Conner," she sighed. "Our mother was in the news, which will undoubtedly put the heat on Interpol for lying about her whereabouts. Next, someone is going to ask what the children know in regards to her disappearance. I plan to talk to them but only so they don't start snooping around the house. The plan is to give them what they _want_ to hear so they don't break their necks in the Alps, trying to come knocking on our front door."

"Yeah, that might cause unwanted attention," he replied in agreement. "Look, just… it's cool. I'll behave. I'm sorry I've left you in boring-ass France. _This_ frog had to find something more interesting than frozen lily pads, and… Yeah. I'll call you later." He quickly ended the call and put the phone into his pocket.

Warm chocolate eyes shifted from left to right, taking in his surroundings. He cleared his throat to try and get rid of the tightness in his upper chest. Cooper walked through the lot, across the street and into a local bank. Neatly, he penned a note in one of the most popular international languages available to him – plain English. It read, '_I would like to exchange my Euros to Rubles. If you have a French, Spanish or English speaking translator available, I would appreciate it._' He took the letter to someone in a suit, with a desk in a cubicle opposite from the teller counter.

They walked away from him and, several minutes later, returned with a gentleman in a button up shirt but his tie hung loose over his shoulders. "I speak English – my French and Spanish is a little rusty. As young as you are, do you seriously speak all three languages fluently?"

"My mother was born and raised in Latin America before moving to France and working for Interpol. I learned English and Spanish from her – I learned French from attending a special education 'language comprehension' school back home in France." Conner quickly changed the subject of conversation. "I need my Euros converted to Rubles. Also, can you point me in the direction of a computer store? I prefer something small and local – their selection is usually more accommodating than some big brand-name store."

"How much are you converting?"

"Five thousand Euros," said Conner, pulling an envelope from his bag. "And the computer store?"

"Head north down the street, young sir. It's on the right side, on the corner of the second intersection." He took the envelope from Conner and walked towards the teller counter. Moments later, he returned to Conner with the same package, but much thicker than before. The boy placed it into his bag, zipped the top and folded a flap over it then said, "Thank you, sir. That will be all for me. I appreciate your help and your services." Before the man could say anything more, Conner made his way to the door.

He glanced at a watch he wore on his left wrist then brought his palms to his muzzle, blowing warm air against his padded paws. He was used to the cold from living in the Alps but wanted to warm his fingers before using them. With the last vestiges of sunlight falling beneath the horizon, he was free to take the scenic route. He moved to the mouth of a nearby alley and quickly made his way up a nearby pole with ease. From there, he vaulted off the top and gracefully alighted the rooftop of the bank then, pausing to ensure no one saw him, he ran north.

At the first intersection, Conner leapt out into the open, twisted his body in mid air and brought his toes together. He landed atop of a traffic signal then abruptly launched himself forward, bounding off a street light pole. The boy continued forward to the next strip of rooftops and headed down the block to the second intersection. He reached over his shoulder, unzipping just the top of the canvas bag.

Withdrawing the cane, Conner wrapped the hook around a nearby lamppost, glanced from left to right to check for any pedestrians and waited. After a moment, he gripped the end of the cane tightly and spiraled down the pole in an elegant descent. He put the cane back into the canvas bag on his shoulder and zipped it shut. A vibrating object in his front pocket caught his attention.

He pulled it out and skimmed a text message from his sister. It read, '_I know you don't have time for dissension but I wanted to make sure our argument didn't turn your mood sour. We're good, you and I; just stay below the radar, okay?'_

He ducked back into the alley and typed, '_I'm cool. I'm in my element and I feel like I'm doing the right thing, so I'm feeling pretty good right now. Need some gear. Au revoir!'_ He pushed the fancy, slim smart phone back into his pocket and stepped inside the computer store.

As if rehearsed, Conner reached in through the door first, lifting his paw and touching his fingers against the jingling metal bells so they wouldn't make noise against the glass door. He darted into one of the aisles but his eyes fell upon a fluffy raccoon tail at the end, disappearing around a corner. Instead of shopping, he quickened his pace further down the aisle. Through the shelving, he could see a female raccoon passing down the second lane in the opposite direction.

Suddenly curious, or perhaps driven by hormones, he pivoted on his heel and went back to the beginning of aisle one and stepped into aisle two. She had her back to him, pocketing a CPU heat sink discretely. A grin formed on the corner of his muzzle and he approached her quietly.

"It's a shame you probably only speak Russian," he said in his native tongue of French.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed at first. After seeing the soft look on his face, her expression lightened. "Sorry, I only speak English and Japanese. Shame you're so cute – you probably can't understand me."

Conner's grin widened, spreading across his muzzle. He knew English good enough to hold a normal conversation. "Perfect – I'll keep watch at the end of the aisle. Don't pocket things while you stand in front of the product… you're displaying bad form. Take two objects, one you want and one you don't. Pocket the first then come back and return the second one as though you changed your mind."

She blinked her innocent looking eyes and said, "Oh? Any other advice you have for me?"

He nodded quickly. "Also, you can take one expensive piece to the register, act like you didn't understand the pricing matrix or the ruble conversion rate and explain that you don't have enough money for it… then walk out with your shoulder's slumped and a pocket full of what you _do_ need."

Completely amused, the girl asked, "Is that your favorite way?"

"No," said Conner, mock blowing on his fingernails. "I case the place and return after hours. And thank you for calling me 'cute'." He reached his paw into the bin full of CPU heat sinks then drew his empty fist back and opened his paw. "It's empty."

"Or is it?" she asked.

"You're either perceptive or clever enough to figure me out." Conner wiggled his fingers then lifted his arm above his head. A plastic heat sink trickled out beneath his shirt, landing on the top of his shoe. "Let's say I had an open bag on my hip… how perfect would that have been?" he asked, adding, "The baby carriage works insanely well for girls. A covered stroller designed for infants is never questioned."

"I'm a little young for that, don't you think?" she asked, adding, "I'm only sixteen." Her eyes flitted over his form, as if looking him over. "And yes, you _are_ cute. Do you have an older brother, per chance?"

Conner's jaw dropped. "Oh, that's just _so_ wrong. And _no_, I only have an older sister." He reached into the canvas bag on his shoulder. "Fine, I'll be the typical male and show off to impress you. After all, if you judge based on age, I'm left with few other options." Conner retrieved the golden cane and gave it a twirl, careful not to strike either side of the aisle. "Watch and learn, amateur."

The hooked tip dipped into a bin of computer parts. He inverted the pole at its fulcrum and deposited the components into his bag then flipped it and paused. "Now, watch carefully." He eyed a customer in the third aisle, eased his cane through the narrow gap between the third and fourth shelf, jerked his wrist slightly and withdrew the cane from the shelving with a leather wallet snagged in the hook.

He replaced the cane into his shoulder bag and opened the wallet, inspecting its contents. "Sadly, this guy lives his life on credit cards." He shook his head slowly and glanced up at her. "He doesn't have enough rubles to take." Conner shrugged and walked away. He rounded the corner at the end of the aisle and approached the man in the third section.

This time, he spoke in Spanish. "You dropped this, Senor." He handed the man his wallet and patted him on the shoulder. "Be careful next time, please." The man quickly turned to Conner and extended a paw. They exchanged a handshake then the teenager walked away, returning to the girl in the second aisle.

"That's it? You gave it back to him?"

Conner rolled up his right shirtsleeve, displaying a fancy watch, backwards on his wrist. "I love elastic metal watchbands. They're wonderful." He removed the watch and dropped it into his bag. "This is a Cartier – a poor man's Rolex. Well, I shouldn't hate on Cartier; they're the second most expensive brand name," he mused with a thoughtful smile. "Not a bad find; I just feel bad for the guy living his life on credit cards, like that." He tilted his head then asked, "What are you here looking for?"

"What am I _here_ looking _for_?" The girl grinned brightly. "You're good at speaking English, but your grammar was a little lacking there… cute, though." She glanced about in a furtive manner then said, "I need parts for my worm-delivery server. It has an onboard black hole router, a black hole IP scrambler and host-trace spike-detection unit built in. You see, Russia has come a long way in the world of Capitalism but they still have a lot of holes in their infrastructure and I'm a much better cyber villain than shoplifter."

"It's okay," replied Conner. "How good are you when in your element?"

"I _could_ tell you I'm world renowned but a _true_ thief never gets caught. And a true thief's name is something of myths and legends. Me?" She smiled and said, "I'm 'nobody'."

"Big names become known household names because they brag," countered Conner. "And you sound like a bragger to me. How good are you, _really_?"

She sneered and withdrew her cell phone. "Watch, little boy." The girl drew her thumb over the touch-screen, opening a 'terminal' application and typed in some letters on the sliding keyboard. "Don't blink. This is an antiquated '5G' network, but it's not monitored very well anymore." She continued to tap small keys then turned the phone around so he could see the screen. The display read, '_Jouhou Honbu access data entry inquiry_?'

"Honbu, that's 'army' right?"

She shook her head. "You're thinking of Sambo _Hombu_, with an 'm' – Hombu. Army General Staff. No, this is the Bureau of Defense Policy. Japanese Defense Intelligence Office… from my _cell phone_ Internet interface, controlling a server by remote, which sits in disguise at a library, used as a public Internet machine. I have another rig that runs as a college server for a university in Prague. I don't allow myself to get caught or cornered."

"How do you get those machines to their locations?"

"Break in and install it, steal something that looks valuable from the Dean's office to cover my tracks and sell it on Ebay from a hacked account, so they lose any trace of my cyber scent."

He offered a paw to her. "I'm Conner Cooper – do you live here in Russia?"

"I bounce from apartment to apartment using a fraudulent credit history and a stolen line of credit. Then, when I can't afford to pay the rent, I move all my belongings and start all over. It's not as bad as it sounds, though."

"You don't speak Russian, though, huh?" He tilted his head.

"I've not had to learn. I told you… all the loopholes are here, in Russia's infrastructure. This is my living. You go where the money is." She shrugged then frowned, somewhat. "I've been breaking even lately, though. I'm a rock star without a manager." A soft sigh, then, "I call myself Rachel."

"You _call_ _yourself_ Rachel? It isn't your birth name?" Conner rubbed his forehead with the back of his left paw. "I don't understand."

"It's complicated," she muttered. "Anyhow, you don't speak Russian either, it seems… so what's your story?"

"I'm traveling – stopped by to grab a part for my handheld GPS navigation unit. It, uh, doesn't have detailed maps for Russia. I also needed a Russian power adaptor to charge my notebook computer." He rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "Your boyfriend isn't helping you with your job?"

"I don't…" she lowered her eyes then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "I like dating, don't get me wrong… I'm just not very good at relationships. My 'line of work' puts business before pleasure and it ruins things with a lot of nice guys. Eventually, the guy gets tired of a lack of attention from me and they either stray or they politely break things off and disappear."

"…Oh, well that's…" He pondered how to respond and gave her a slight smile. "Work before pleasure does happen – I understand that. I could use your help, Rachel. I can pay you for your talents but I need a place to stay while I'm in town. I can pay for that, too."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up, obviously in need of financial funding. "You're in luck, I'm currently staying at one of the nicer apartments I've ever rented."

"Really," said Conner with a nod. He reached into his messenger-style bag and withdrew a fist full of rubles. "This'll pay your rent next month since you're so fond of your current place."

She took the money from him, somewhat hesitant. "Or food, gas for my car since Russia is _still_ using gasoline, and it'll pay for small luxuries that are too hard to steal, like fast food."

Conner furrowed his brows, looking over her toned, feminine frame. "You eat fast food? I can't tell – you've got a great figure."

Her smile broadened. "I have a high metabolism. I love fast food. You look like you live on healthy food."

"Not exactly _health_ food," he mused with a shrug. "Just healthy home cooking and old fashion exercise. I'll give you more money for hosting my stay and helping me."

"What kind of help do you need?"

"I want to hack into a Russian bank computer and look at a photograph taken by an ATM machine camera." He kept his voice especially low and said, "There's a catch and I'll understand if you walk away right now…"

"You're wanted by the mafia? Government? Some obsessed crazy person with great connections?" With each question she asked, Conner shook his head. She put her paws on her hips. "Then who?"

He paused and glanced around furtively. No one was within earshot. "No one even knows me – I'm not a celebrity for heaven's sake. I'm here looking for my parents; they disappeared back in mid November."

She frowned. "Right before Thanksgiving and all the way through Christmas?"

"I don't celebrate Thanksgiving," he said. "I live in France. The catch is… my missing mother is an _Interpol_ investigator."

Rachel winced. "Yeah, but helping you find her doesn't necessarily mean I have to meet her, right? So, uh… if we can keep it strictly business and I don't have to meet her for dinner once we find her… we're all set."

"I might as well tell you I'm going to flirt with you, though." Conner zipped his bag shut and flipped the flap over it. "You're cute, after all."

"Just don't try anything funny," she returned. "A girl does nothing without consent. Even girls who _like_ doing things without consent will use 'safety words' when treading into uncomfortable territory."

"Safety …words?"

Rachel patted his forehead. "You're naïve – how adorable. C'mon, my car is out in the alley. I just need to grab what's on my list and I'll meet you out there."

Conner held his paw out, palm up. "Thanks to my godfather, I'm pretty computer savvy. Give me your list and I'll meet you around back in half the time. Don't worry – this is what I do for a living."

"…And your mother is an international cop? That's kind of strange," she mused with an inward chuckle. "It's the plain gray sedan out back. Honda Accord; I'll be in the alley."

"The one that's ten years old?"

She smiled a bit. "You're perceptive, all right. Yeah, Honda doesn't even make gasoline cars anymore. I'll see you out there." She paused, thought better of the situation then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thanks." She passed the list to him then sauntered to the front of the store and left.

He watched her all the way to the door, eyes raking over her body – a figure like a carving on a spire. "Damn, she's hot."

In plain English, a voice floated to him from behind. "A dead leaf might as reasonably demand to return to the tree. She's above and beyond relationship material."

The teenager whirled about, face to face with the man whose watch he'd taken. It was obvious the man hadn't yet noticed his missing timepiece. He cleared his throat, looking over the young raccoon. "She's in here all the time, trying to take bits and pieces. Cute girl but she's not only trouble, she's a con artist. You haven't given her any money, have you?"

"Oh, yeah, tons of cash." He smiled, glanced down at the list in his paw and said, "I've got some shopping to do. I didn't know you spoke English – I'm glad you didn't leave without your wallet. Take care, tovarich."

The man, a grizzly bear, shook his head. "You'll see, little dead leaf. She is not some pretty computer nerd girl. If you run with her, you're headed for jail."

"Just because she's '_trying to take bits and pieces_' doesn't mean she's some big-time criminal."

The man lifted his paw semi-defensively. "You'll see, kid. She's bad news. I'd hate to see a well groomed, intelligent looking young man – such as yourself – go wrong by following a shapely piece of ass over to the other side of the railroad tracks. Just get what you've come for and walk away. Don't go meeting her, trust me."

The raccoon folded his arms. "Thanks for the advice. Just the same, I doubt she's as dangerous as you make her sound."

"People like her abuse the personal computer and make it become a deep frustration for everyone else who has one."

Young Cooper decided to make a wild guess, to see if his gut instinct was spot on… "Why didn't you just _say_ you're a cop?" Conner shifted his weight from left side to right. "Spare me the do-gooder crap and cut to the chase – I don't care how dangerous she is with an Internet connection. I'm just checking out her hips, ass and thighs. Calm down, super trooper."

"ICPO Inspector Thomas Gerard." He drew back his overcoat, flashing an identification badge, hanging from a lanyard. "She's been working this town since long before I arrived in the area."

Conner's eyes darted to the laminated ID card. "If you've got your catch, why let her leave?"

"I'm not after her and she doesn't have any official Red Notice with her name on it. She's just bad news, that's all I'm saying."

Young Cooper cocked his head and furrowed his brows. "If you're really Interpol, then why didn't you understand me when I spoke Spanish to you?"

Inspector Gerard shrugged. "Just because the four languages we officially operate in are French, English, Spanish and Arabic, it doesn't mean I speak all four languages fluently."

"So who _are_ you looking for?"

"That isn't your concern, young man." Gerard readjusted the lay of his overcoat and his ID card then said, "Just stay away from that girl before you wind up in international trouble. She's in over her head and it's only a matter of time before local authorities or someone like myself needs to get involved."

"Don't you have someone you should be looking for? There are lost people needing to be found." Cooper was referring to his mother but didn't want to explain anything in detail, especially with Rachel waiting out in the alley. He walked away and began collecting the shopping list. After a few minutes, he walked to the register with what appeared to be a single object. The boy paid for an amusing calendar depicting beautiful women posing nude with various technology gadgets. He left the store, rounded the corner and approached a decade-old Honda Accord with slightly tinted windows.

Conner opened the passenger rear door, put his bag and the canvas case into the back then slid into the passenger front seat and reclined to a forty-five degree angle. "You've got a fan with the ICPO. Inspector Gerard. Tommy-The-Gun-Gerard says you're bad news and will drag me down if I get involved with you. However, you're not his catch and so you're nothing more than 'trouble' so far as he is concerned."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "iCop? The International Criminal Organization of Police? Please; their servers are less secure than the Japanese one I just showed you. Which guy was it?"

"The bear whose watch I took," said Conner with a slight smirk. "He's looking for my mother."

She blinked. "How in the heck do you know that? There's tons of Interpol personnel walking around, Conner."

"My gut tells me that I'll be crossing paths with him again. The only way for that to happen is if he and I are looking for the same person. At least now I know who is assigned to her case. If you can hack into the servers at _Two Hundred, quai Charles de Gaulle_, then by all means, I want to see his bio. If they sent some idiot to search for my mother, I'm going to be angry. And, if I'm wrong about who he's looking for, I'm going to smack him upside his head, because he _should_ be looking for her. Every Interpol agent in all of Russia should be looking for her."

"Well… Let's just get back to my place for now. You got everything?"

He grinned. "Everything on your list, plus I photographed all the security points with my cell phone camera. Just incase we have to go back after hours."

"Look at you," she said with a chuckle. "Aren't you on top of this whole 'stealing' thing. I hope I don't disappoint you with something as unexciting as cyber theft."

"So where are we going? Your place, right?" Conner glanced at his personal GPS navigator and attached it to the small secondary object he'd taken from the store. "I'll save it as a favorite in my 'Navi', so whenever I'm on foot by rooftop, I'll have a marker to follow back to your place."

"Yeah, we're going to my place." She put the car into gear but eased into the brake then said, "Oh, here, you've got a bit of dirt on your nose." She lifted a small piece of cloth up to Conner's snout and covered his muzzle with it. The chemical she'd put on the fabric caused him to lose consciousness. "Sorry, sweet pea, I've got to run my own background check on you before I let you see _my_ residence. I'm not _that_ trusting."

Conner's drowsy murmur floated through the air like thistledown. "Wh… why…?"

"Boys are so cute when they're defenseless." She eased into the accelerator and pulled out of the alley. Her right paw slid off the shifter. She patted Conner's tummy. "Aww, there's that soft, vulnerable underbelly we women want to see… it let's us feel comfortable around you… thanks for the money and the parts on my 'laundry list' of computer hardware." She reached over Conner's slumped form, grasped the seatbelt buckle and pulled it along his body then buckled the clasp with a click. "Safety first, cutie."

Conner Cooper's world faded away to a dark, muddled abyss.

* * *

Chapter -4-

**His groan preceded the slow opening of his eyes**, looking up at a slender slit of light emanating from a bedroom door left ajar. The thin beam of illumination filtered in like a pointing finger. Conner brought his paws to either side of his head, rubbing at his temples.

With his eyes fully dilated, he could see his bag, vest, long-sleeve shirt and the canvas case with his cane. They sat on the floor, not far from the door. The raccoon sat the rest of the way up, stretched and arched his back until a satisfying _pop_ came from his spine. He also still wore both watches, one on each wrist.

Conner slid his legs out of the bed, brushing away a comfortable down blanket. He made his way to the door and pushed it open then lowered his gaze to inspect himself in the light. He wore pants but his shirt, shoes and socks had been removed.

Leaning up against the wall not far from the door was his cane. Silently, he opened the zipper canvas bag, removed the family heirloom, and swiftly tiptoed out into the hallway, looking from left to right. At the end of the hall was another room. Conner picked the lock with a paperclip he kept in his pocket and turned the knob.

A fantastic array of monitors covered the wall opposite of him. His passport photograph was on one of the screens, to the far left. Rachel's silky-sweet voice called out to him from a fancy looking chair. "You won't be needing your staff-thing. Sorry to drug you, I just had to make sure I could trust you before I brought you home. I'm a little untrusting at first… can't be too sure."

Conner sighed and lowered the cane, walking further into the networking room. Rachel was on his immediate right. The teenager's jaw tightened and he glared at her. "I'm not some rapist with a bunch of STDs; you could have just _asked_ me to stay at a hotel tonight while you looked up my credentials."

Her voice took on an innocent tone. "But then I couldn't go through all your stuff and check you for a wire or transmitter device."

His tone changed to one of sharp sarcasm. "Did you find one?" he asked with a somewhat incredulous stare.

"Yes, actually; it was sewn into your shirt." She stood up from her chair and approached him directly. "I removed it, soldered it onto a USB flash drive chip, plugged it into my computer, wrote a driver for the device then used my computer to modify the transmission frequency." She saw that he understood her by the look in his eyes but she could also tell that he wasn't getting the bigger picture, either. "I …uh, well… I reprogrammed it, in a sense. Then, to mess with whoever is looking for you, I dug up an old transmitter packed in with my belongings. I set the modulation and transmission frequency to the same as the one I found in your shirt. I put a fresh Energizer lithium battery into the transponder and took it down to the drug runners on the corner."

"You can _do_ that?" He was shocked that she'd actually found a bug on him – he never expected for his previous sarcastic remark to be true. "Okay, so you found that weird thing on me… you are using it to throw off their trace on me so that no one can find _you_, but you're keeping the one you found on my body because it's a newer, fancier model, is that about right? Okay, so… why not just destroy the signal and end their trace pattern?" He massaged his right temple again and asked, "So the tracker won't be anywhere near us. So… What the hell does _that_ do?" His free paw lifted, rubbing at his eyes.

"One of the guys I used to associate with," she began, walking in a circle around the younger raccoon to check him over. "…Goes south for the weekend. He gets his 'stuff' from somewhere down in Romania."

The young Cooper found himself eyeing her figure again. He turned away, glaring at the wall of computer parts, adjacent to the monitors. "So whoever was trying to follow me is about to head to vampire country for a few days, huh? A wild goose chase that you can monitor from afar?"

"That's the idea," she replied. "I put it into his pocket, while giving him a friendly hug. I'd tell him I'd not seen him in a while and that he should look me up some time. I would keep the one I found in your shirt so I can open it up and study it, later on. It's a pretty expensive model with a very effective range. Same range as the one I used to throw off your tracker, but the one they utilized is a fraction of the size – very nice piece of equipment."

"Is that bad?"

"It just means someone paid good money for it, so they wouldn't lose you. But, now you're just as invisible as me. Don't worry."

Conner offered a weary nod of his head. "Okay, I won't." He brought his paws to his temples again. "I have no idea who would want to watch me, other than my sister or possibly Bentley. The thing is, Bentley doesn't know where I am right now or he wouldn't have let me get very far with this cane… long story, I'll give you the details at another time… but just the same, it couldn't be him. Who else would _sew_ a transmitter into my _shirt_? That's… that's just weird. They'd have to be awfully close to get it into my shirt – it's not like they _knew_ I'd be wearing this particular shirt for _this_ trip."

She glared at him and said, "Unless there is a transmitter in _all _of your shirts, right now." Then she shrugged and threw her paws into the air. "Who cares? They're not your problem anymore," she said with a shake of her head. "You're obviously still groggy or you would have come to the only reasonable conclusion – someone isn't looking for _you. _They're actually tracking your progress in finding your _parents_."

Conner sat down in a nearby computer chair with wheels. It wasn't as comfortable as the one she sat in, but it still felt good to sit back and relax for a moment. "But only my sister and Bentley know that I'm looking for them. No one else really knows that they're missing – we think that Interpol might know where they are, but they're denying it."

"You're not getting it! Stop being so damn naïve," said Rachel with a sigh. "If _someone_ was watching your mother and father since before, say, November… but suddenlyyour parents disappeared off the radar, possibly on purpose with the intention of luring this _person_ or group away from their home and family… Now, let's say that _someone_ wanted to locate your folks… they would start watching and bugging the children… then, if they heard that one of you decided to go looking, they would bug you and watch your progress. A trained agent could easily break into a household, sew a transmitter into your clothing and leave without detection."

"They'd have to be pretty good at their job," Conner mused. "Getting up to our place isn't exactly easy. On top of that, they would have to be quiet enough not to disturb two children of a trained Master Thief, who is married to a high-ranking member of the ICPO…" The teenage boy shrugged and smiled. "Let me put it like this: when your father is the best burglar in the business and your mother is Interpol, you learn how to be above and beyond sneaky. Not only that – Carmen and I are very tuned in to our surroundings. We're so good we've grown critical of anyone who brags or calls themselves 'the best' or 'the stealthiest' or what-have-you. See, what you're suggesting is that someone was able to infiltrate the house without either myself or Carmen noticing… that's just impressive."

"Well," Rachel frowned. "If they're as good as you're making them out to be, they already _know_ where you are, _without_ the transmitter working properly. They might even be sitting in this very room with us, right now, in an electronic active-camouflage suite…" She shook her head and chuckled softly. She pointed to a monitor near the middle of the cluster, showing all white with a few black splotches. "On a serious note, Conner… this house is clean – the only biological entities in this apartment belong to me, you and my house plants." Next, she pointed to the monitor adjacent to his passport photograph. "The only two heartbeats within my house are the ones belonging to you and me. I have scent detection, electro-impulse detection that would sense the biological energy of a nearby body… you name it. I guess I'm paranoid."

For some reason, Conner felt comforted by her obsessive-compulsive nature in regards to staying off the grid. "I'm impressed that you move all of this gear each time you relocate to a new apartment. I suppose one can never be too careful."

"You've got that right. My computer checks for patterns and algorithms in daily activities, based on the movements of my neighbors. It assesses their actions and determines a threat level. It warns me when I'm about to receive a packaged delivery before the courier gets to the elevator, on the first floor. It's in a beta-testing stage right now but so far it's been working very well."

Cooper leaned back in the chair, eyebrows furrowed. "How is that even possible? Children would surely set it off, quick to bounce around in their daily activities from a short attention span, right?"

"No, children are the most self-scheduling people of all," she replied. "Save for a small handful, like hyper-active or ill-tempered, they only do things they're comfortable with. The sensors I've installed in this building detect more than just movement. Air pressure changes when someone is angry, even if it's only a fraction of a degree. I'll know right away if something is not normal and the computer will assess the threat as 'mild'. When someone comes down my hall with a delivery, it will denote the threat level as 'low'. If there's metal composite with lead present, their demeanor is set a certain way and they're 'ready' for combat with heightened adrenaline, the sensors will come back with a threat assessment of 'moderate.' If something more serious occurs, it will tell me the threat level is rated as 'high', and notate the safest possible escape route. Again, this is only a beta-test build of the program."

The boy shook his head. "You bounce around a lot, only live in one place for a short amount of time and have low physical cash income… yet you can afford the time and money to wire up your latest short-term living arrangements? Let alone you move all this stuff around by yourself?"

"I'm just that cautious." She offered him a smile and said, "It's equipment I've worked with for quite some time. When I leave, I come back for my stuff and remove any trace of my existence. I don't even want CSI to know I was there. It's spotless, my gear is gone… and I set it up at the next place. I rarely ever lose my belongings, especially my detection sensors. I set up a grid at each new place and keep it well monitored."

"What can I say? I'm just floored," he told her with a shake of his head. "It's over the top; why all this precaution?"

Rachel sighed. Beneath her breath, she muttered, "It didn't keep my father alive, and he's the one who built it."

The teenage boy rubbed the side of his head, straining to hear her. "What?"

"Nothing." She looked away for a moment, as though she was hiding something from him. When she turned her eyes back upon him, her expression changed to something brighter and more upbeat. "I said that it keeps me alive, doofus." Rachel smiled and walked across the room. She placed a finger on the screen with his picture. "Instead of hacking in and watching where your passport shows action, like when it's checked at the border… I just flag it to report when someone _else_ is watching it and how many times someone else accesses your file, that way I'm not tied to checking it directly. So far, one person in Russia took enough interest in you to pull your passport file and, lucky for you, that movement came from within a Russian Agency – probably a computer sniffing bot that crosschecked your profile for any red-flag information. But if anyone else tries to pull up information about you from outside of the passport agency, I'll know where they're at, their actual IP address and can track them back to their physical location."

"Okay," said Conner, gesturing outward with his paws. "Slow down, your making my head hurt," he mused with a lighthearted chuckle. "Seriously, the easiest way to stay off of everyone's grid is not to spy on everyone else…"

She placed her paws on her hips, glaring at him. "It's kept me in motion whenever someone tries to come around… I'm always one step ahead of everyone else."

"No, they come around because you're still on the electronic grid," he explained, adding, "If you really want to slip between the cracks, just become Amish and live amongst the tech-less masses, as a commoner. No bank accounts, no Internet connection, no passport, name, or medical record… Nothing at all. No one watches a random butter churner on a huge farm with a bunch of other nobodies. You wear a bonnet, keep your bangs long and no one recognizes you because you stay on a farm in solitude from normal society."

"Hacking is who I am," she said, looking down at a notebook computer screen on her desk. She closed the file that showed her father's last several bank transactions before he died last year. "I wouldn't be happy doing anything else… So I stay one step ahead of everyone around me, so I can continue doing what I love and doing what I need to do in order to get by."

"Fair enough," said Conner, leaning back in the chair. "I could use the help of someone like yourself… how did you become so tech savvy, let alone popular enough to need all of this mess, at only sixteen years old?"

"I have a natural flair for this stuff," she said. "I hacked into government agencies at the age of ten and eleven years old. I'm a networking prodigy." What she _didn't_ say was that she and her father were a team, together. She did everything she could to help him without ever really asking him 'why'. "I enjoy this and in order to stay one step ahead of people who are out to stop me, I adapted and evolved. They're caught up and slowed down by the same old red tape and the same old method of searching out my kind… I know the government loopholes so it's easier to avoid anyone who is after me. Guess what, Conner? I'm fine."

"Yes, you certainly _are_ fine," said Conner, waggling his eyebrows. "So it's even more of a surprise to me that you're this good with computers."

She looked down, trying to blow off his flirty words. "Computers are easy to manage when you can take something like Linux and design your own build from scratch." Rachel found herself going into another nerdy rant. "It's tailored to my needs and wants and it operates the way I want it to. My platform is completely unique in all aspects. Other would-be hackers are unfamiliar with its layout. The trick is to trump _them_ and _their_ original build, program or server before they do it to me. It's a cyber war and by building your own virtual cyber battlefield, you can have the upper hand."

He lifted his paws in a defensive gesture. "I know how to clean my drive from a typical Trojan, play games and use a terminal application on my phone to bypass the firewall of an ATM so I can remove money… what you're talking about is a little _beyond_ my level."

Rachel offered an encouraging smile. "Even so, it's impressive that you know how to get into a bank through the ATM, Conner."

"Bentley showed me when I was growing up. A specially designed ATM card, hooked up to a flat IDE ribbon cable, allows me to take control of the terminal from a device that transfers the signal to USB mini, which goes into my cell phone. The rest comes with using the 'terminal' application to bypass their security programs. But here you are, taking about flagging people who access information about my passport, ump-teen miles away, tracking their Internet Protocol address and digitally trailing them back to wherever they're signed on… then you talk about being able to preemptively strike at them… or using some complex mathematical equation to determine threat levels of people in your vicinity… It's unheard of, Rachel. And you're telling me this stuff not only works… you say it's kept you alive and safe? And, furthermore, _why_ even tell me at all?"

"For a year, now." She smiled and walked away from the wall of computer monitors. "It helps me sleep at night, knowing that I'm not letting down my guard just because I need to be unconscious for a few hours. I'm ready for it. I'm telling you because," she trailed off and nodded to one of her monitors. "I'm monitoring _you_, too. It tells me if I can trust your intentions, or if you're really a young spy come to infiltrate my shell." She looked from the monitor back to him and said, "So you're either able to fool my system or you're genuine and safe."

He glanced at her monitor cluster then back at her. "Okay… And what if someone else tracked _you_ to _your_ IP address?"

Rachel giggled. "I have so many subverting IP masks that any would-be power-hacker will think that each one of my computer systems is reporting from a different continent. If they were any good, we should assume they would employ the same cyber countermeasures. In other words, they're probably nowhere near _their_ purported IP address, either."

He rubbed at his temples again. "Oh boy…"

The female raccoon looked away from the computer screens and moved back to her comfortable cushioned chair. "So, you mentioned something about needing to look at a photograph with your mother, and tracking their location. I won't charge you money for that," she told him, tapping a fingernail against her lower lip. "However, I do require a favor. You did pretty darn well cleaning out the computer store. You got everything on my list with no problems. You did it faster than I could have, which really impresses me." She tapped a few keys on her laptop, quickly securing the files about her father.

"What's the favor?" he asked.

"Well…" She leaned back in the chair and lowered her eyes to the floor. "I slipped up about a week ago… Some guy took a picture of me in public. At first, I thought nothing of it – I mean, yeah I'm paranoid but I was out getting food and he was randomly snapping pictures in public. But two days ago, I saw this…" She pulled a wireless keyboard in her lap to control her desktop system. The girl enlarged an image on one of the many monitors. It was a digital camera photograph of her driving through the streets of Russia.

Rachel cleared her throat and said, "I'll hack into his network and delete the picture right from his very hard drive but that doesn't help anything – he has a hard copy on the flash card of his camera. I was hoping he would put the card back into his computer and I could make a Trojan virus that would format that card, but it never happened again. I tracked him down by tracing an IP address from where he emailed this picture to a Russian mafia group – I'm up on their hit list, posted on one of their public blogs. Well, I'm not sure why this guy has a hit on me, but I'll be damned if I want my face on the Internet like that. I want you to go into this guy's house, find his digital camera and the card with my picture… and I want you to bring it to me. If you can do that, I'll help you find your family."

"Any information on this guy, other than the IP address where his computer is located?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Besides his home address, I pulled his banking information, his credit history and I accessed the network of the home security agency he's using – I set it to an automated delay. If the house burglar alarm goes off, they won't know about it until you're long gone. I'll even change the codes if I want. Anyhow, this guy is well off. He has mafia connections and undoubtedly he's paying them for protection. You'll have to sneak passed people hired to guard his house."

"That's the _easy_ part," exclaimed Conner with a grin. "After I get what you need, what's my extraction method? I don't have a getaway driver."

Rachel tilted her head. "If I have you on bored, for this… job; this _heist_… I'll do all the planning, including your escape route."

"All right, that sounds like a deal to me," he said with a firm nod. "Can I trust that you won't get me in over my head?"

The girl sighed with a frown and shook her head causing her soft gray ringlets to bounce back and forth. "No, I can't promise anything – it will be dangerous. Are you the real deal, or are you just a wannabe thief kid who's all bark and no bite?"

Conner rolled his eyes. "Any fancy gadgets?" he asked.

"Let's start simple. I don't even know how good you are, so I'm not going to give you a bunch of techno toys in case you lose them. No offense, but if you get your tail into hot water, I'll need those gadgets for myself. However…" She stood up from her desk and pulled out a small silver gun. "This is a tranquilizer pistol. The dart is quick to act and will drop a big guard in seconds. Keep in mind, though, it won't be fast enough to stop them from pressing a panic button on their wristwatch. So make sure you shoot them _before_ they spot you, not the other way around."

"With any luck, I won't need it," he said with a grin of confidence. "Besides, I don't like the thought of having to hide a snoring body. That creates more problems than it solves." Conner approached her and took the weapon then checked the magazine. Ten darts. There was one extra in the chamber. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I'll give you an emergency situation explosive." Rachel stuffed her paws into the pockets of her nearly skintight jeans. "If you get into a problem and require a diversion, the detonation will do the trick. You can either plant it outside and set it off as a diversionary tactic, or you can bring it in with you and use it offensively."

Cooper nodded. "I'll scout out the situation and make a decision while I'm on location." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You sound like you're pretty good at multitasking. While I'm out in the field, I want you to get started on hacking the planet. Find out where the photograph in the news came from. Find out what bank has the original and get an unedited copy. Get the exact time and date, right down to the second, and see what else you can find out or dig up."

"You're that charged up and ready to go, huh?"

Conner ran his paw through his bangs. "I'm a little hazy from that crappy stunt you pulled back in your car… I could use a cup of coffee or something, then I'll be ready to go."

"Fair enough." She smiled and walked away from him, sashaying her hips with each step. "Help yourself to the kitchen. I'll start plotting out your job and you can leave in two hours."

The teenage boy licked his lips, eyeing her figure. A strange noise came from the speakers on her desk, with a 'threat warning' flashing on one of her monitors. Conner deadpanned, glaring at the screen cluster.

"See?" she said, with her back still to him, "The sensors work. Maybe you should go and take a cold shower before going out, tonight." She grinned over her shoulder at him then walked out of the room with her head held high and an inflated ego.

Conner made an obscene hand-gesture to the computers on the wall, ignoring a chirp that warned of his frustration level escalating. He cleared his throat and called out to her. "Yeah, I'll uh… go and get that coffee now. Maybe I _will_ take a shower before I leave."

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A/N: _TWO CHAPTERS in ONE update! YAY. What a bargain, huh? They were both short, so it only made SENSE to combine them! A double posting for your reading pleasure. Why? Why not! I did this because I usually put the PROLOGUE and the FIRST CHAPTER together, but this time… I didn't. lol, well, I fixed that here! Now, the 'updates' will be at the same number as the chapter number. !!yAy!!_

Thanks for reading!

-Kit

PS: To those of you who read the new update for A Cooper Christmas, thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _Okay, we're into the mission. I am nearly finished with Chapter 6 as of writing this Author's Note. There's a good deal of action going into the last lap of this chapter and the reason it took so long to post is because I wanted to do research on the vehicles used, the equipment, and wanted to make sure it happened accurately, from the use of typically-unique military vehicles that make an appearance, all the way to how a character would physically react during a collision scene. I've been told I'm one of the most dramatic realists out there. Big imagination but I go out of my way to make things too realistic, some times. That's me!_

_I spent a little TOO much time researching all the characteristics (including scene, location, environment, etc) of this first major Car CHASE scene. I've had car chase scenes before, in Reflections of Fox McCloud but not like this. This is an actual CHASE. Having SEEN too many in the movies, I had to really clear my head and go out for a drive to get a feel for how some of this stuff could have happened. It required a great deal of practice in an empty parking lot with my Honda and a small cone. xD_

_Don't try this stuff at home, okay? Thanks! _

_

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Chapter -5-

**The air felt thin and crisp, **hosting an evanescent wisp of steam with every breath taken. Conner lifted his left paw, touching two gloved fingers to the small earpiece clipped at the base of his ear. The small object, shaped like an inverted, crooked pyramid, remained secure and comfortable inside his left ear.

"I'm in the tallest tree at the edge of the property," said Conner in a soft voice. "You weren't kidding, there are about a dozen Russian Mobsters – four outside and I count eight in the house, making their rounds by the windows. Some are huskies, the rest of them are wolves and _bears_; oh my!"

"Stay serious," she replied over the Bluetooth earpiece. "I'm using my laptop to mosey around in his computer. They use a biometrics lock and there are fourteen people on file, counting the homeowner. That means there might still be one more guard; either that or he's married."

"You're the one in his system," replied Conner. "Don't you see any records of a spouse? Maybe he's divorced and never took her out of the security _scanner_ _thing_. That's what biometrics is, right? One of those finger print or iris scanner devices?"

"Yes," she mused, "That's correct. There are last names in a separate file, stand by." After a brief pause, her voice returned over the line. "I have two identical last names, the are no first names. Gurlukovich. I don't have any first names, here… But it's safe to assume that the second 'Gurlukovich' is the spouse."

"Neat. Okay, do me a favor." Conner crawled further out on a large branch, not far from the flagpole in the backyard. "Look up something on the Internet that I can use to screw with their reception. I don't care what it is; figuring out how to rig a microwave to run while the door is open or somehow broadcasting gibberish over their wireless router. Whatever you can think of, it'll come in handy."

"That crap only works in action movies!" Her scolding voice lessened in intensity then she told him, "They're using radio, not cellular. We would need to find out what frequency they're using, match and override it then redirect a powerful broadcast back at them. I don't have the means to hijack a local radio station, so you'll just have to do it the old fashion way. However, it appears they're using some sort of radar apparatus on the roof, so you'll need to find a way to jam it until you're safely inside the house."

Cooper eyed the distance between the branch and the top of the flagpole, below him. "How do I do _that_? See? I told you that we should have cased the place first." He shifted his eyes to a workshop behind the house. "Is there any way you can look up information on that household? Maybe I can go in through the garage to get inside the house… some sort of underground tunnel or something?"

"One second." A short time later, she said, "It looks like the building plans are in the public archive… Hmm." Another pause, then, "Two separate foundations. However, I did find something interesting about the homeowner on the World Wide Web, saying that he's a hobbyist builder of small airplanes. It says here that he builds them at home, flies them in local competitions then donates the proceeds and the plane to local charities."

"Tax write offs," replied Cooper with a chuckle. "Why does his hobby matter? I'm not _flying_ out of here, y'know."

She asked, "Can you get into the garage?"

He grinned inwardly and dove for the flagpole. With a practiced ninja spire jump, the raccoon twisted about in midair, pressed his feet together and gracefully alighted the top of the pole. He looked down at one of the guards, waited until the man rounded the next corner of the house then made his next move. With careful focus he leapt towards a fence about five meters away.

He dropped on the tall privacy fence and began running along it until he came up behind the garage. His head lifted, zeroing in on a ventilation register, high above. Wearing the canvas guitar case over his shoulder, its strap tightly fastened diagonally across his chest, the raccoon carefully removed his father's cane and twirled it.

The raccoon put the cane into his muzzle, clamping down at the fulcrum. He jumped at a sturdy looking drainage spout and ascended the far left back corner of the garage until he was at the top. Conner tightly closed his right fist around the metal pipe and used his left paw to swing the cane outwards. The hooked tip caught at the corner of the vent, knocking it out of the frame. It fell to the ground, landing flat in the grass. He sighed in relief at the lack of noise.

Releasing the pipe, Cooper swung outwards, hanging from the square hole in the siding, two stories above the ground. He shimmied up the cane, in through the vent duct and found himself in an attic. The raccoon placed two fingers against the base of his left ear and said, "I'm in the garage. Now, what's so special about it?"

"Okay, good deal!" The female voice over his earpiece was smooth and, to him, rather sexy sounding. "Airplanes are typically made from aluminum. In order to shape the parts, one has to cut the pieces down to size. I want you to find the excess aluminum shavings and gather as much as you're able. There should also be some metalized glass fibre shards; scraps from building the interior of the cockpit… gather it all into a pile. We can use it to confuse their radar array."

"Oh, I get it," said Conner with a chuckle. "Chaff. Hey, that's pretty clever." Having grown up around Bentley, video games and action movies, Conner Cooper understood the basic theory behind a Chaff Interference grenade. He crept through the attic, pushed downward on a spring-loaded trapdoor with a collapsible ladder and made his way down to the second floor. "Won't the guards investigate the radar disturbance?"

"I sure hope so." Her soft chuckle followed, then, "Unless you _want_ to walk through a fully-lit house with eight or nine people walking around. By the way, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't have a _clue_ where this guy keeps his digital camera. It could be in his bedroom, a computer room or maybe a storage closet. That's why I figured this job might be a deal breaker."

"Have you found anything about that picture of my mother?" Conner changed the subject and descended a flight of stairs to the first floor. A hollow aluminum chassis filled the room. A pair of wings hung above it from hoisting cables. Aileron flaps, hinge pins and other various parts were mounted on the back wall. A cockpit canopy bubble sat on the ground, beneath the unfinished fuselage.

"Actually, you're in luck," reported Rachel proudly. "I tracked it to a local bank not _too_ terribly far from here; same time zone – a little ways up north. It's in my old neighborhood and I know the layout fairly well if you're thinking about going there."

"I like hearing positive news," said Cooper, walking through the garage. It was wide enough to fit about half a dozen cars and a few lawnmowers and maybe some toolboxes. However the entire first floor was dedicated to space for making the hobby airplanes. In the rear corner, next to a locked door on the back wall, there was a pile of metal shavings on the floor. He approached them, careful not to trip on anything in the dim room.

Conner removed a small flashlight from his pocket, shook it rapidly to charge the internal cell then switched it on. He examined the pile of shavings then the rear garage door. "Okay, there's an alarm on this door at the back of the garage. It's most likely linked to the security panel in the house. There's a simple magnet receiver on the door, which completes the circuit so long as the door remains closed. Since the door swings _inward_ on the frame, I'm going to have to disassemble the frame piece and the door piece, fasten them together and put them aside. It'll take a few minutes then I'll gather the metal dust and scraps. How do I use it, though? I don't have a, uh, 'delivery' method."

"How handy are you with a slingshot?"

The teenager chuckled and shook his head. "Pretty good, actually." He knelt besides the pile of shiny ashes in the corner and sifted his gloved fingers through it. "Wow, this stuff is pretty awesome. It's like shimmering sand. This stuff is probably smoother than sawdust, too."

"Perfect," she told him. "Listen, I see plumbing lines in the building code information, here… Try and find something like a balloon, fill it with water, just a little bit, then put it inside of another balloon. From there, I want you to put some of that metal dust into the inner balloon, fill it with more water then find a way to slingshot it at the radar array atop of the house. It's easy to spot; it's the only goofy-looking out-of-place object up there. Is it close enough that you can do this?"

"I'll make it work somehow," he replied. "Will it work, being this fine? I thought you'd need little shards to really do the job?"

"Not if you nail the damn thing square on. The water and metal shavings will stick to the front of the array and probably freeze up there. It'll just look like shiny water droplets to anyone investigating that thing in the dark." Rachel paused then said, "I should have given you more tranquilizing darts. It'd be easier to just put the entire staff to sleep."

"Just relax," he said with an upbeat tone. "I've got this – you're just being a nervous-Nelly." Cooper walked back to the workbench near the airplane, replaced the cane into its bag and folded his arms. "Besides, I have the _perfect_ delivery system." He swiveled his head from left to right, looking over the assortment of electric model airplanes that covered the wall. He'd not noticed them before now but it was proof-positive that the guy who owned the property _really_ loved his flying hobby. A collection of remote controls sat in a glass case at the far end of the workbench.

"What's your idea?"

"It's a little skill I picked up from my godparents. Between that and my mother having her piloting license, I think I have a shot at making this work. By the way, are those tranq-darts reusable?"

"To a degree," she said over the line. "It won't have the same potency and it won't take down a target right away. If you're thinking of reusing it, the injection system in the dart will have already delivered its payload. This means that reinjection of the tip into another person to save ammunition… well, let's just say you'll have to jab it right into the Carotid artery."

"Why?"

She cleared her throat and said, "That's the artery that sends blood _to_ the brain, which means the toxin goes straight to their head. If you dilute what's left in a used dart, it'll just make them a little drowsy, so you don't want to hit anything else."

"I'm no doctor," he mused. The boy rubbed his chin thoughtfully, still eyeing the collection of remote controlled airplanes on the wall. "So if I accidentally hit the Jugular, or anywhere else, I'll be diluting the toxin. It'll go to the rest of their body quickly but won't be as effective, huh? What about ingesting the toxin? I could put it into someone's water bottle or something like that, right?"

She sighed then said, "It's not clear and it tastes ten times worse than NyQuil. Do _not_ put it in anyone's drink. You'll be causing a bunch of problems. Just shoot a few guards and whack the rest. If it comes to that, shut off the main power and leave. Their surveillance system will archive the video footage on a computer hard drive located on the premises. It's networked to the main computer in the house. I'll install a virus that writes information into the registry that will automatically wipe out all the drives."

"How does turning off the power help?" He saw some wire ties on the workbench and scooped them up.

Again, she sighed. "It works like this: Next time the power is turned on, the system will reboot. Instead of booting into the operating system, it'll boot into my virus, which is a mock version of an operating system. That's what zero-fills every sector on every hard drive across the network." She paused for dramatic effect then cleared her throat. "The data becomes _unrecoverable_," Rachel explained.

"You're ridiculously hot," he returned without skipping a beat. "This guy is obsessed with planes," he added, changing the topic. "I'm going to use one of his remote controlled model airplanes and use it to deliver the Chaff to the array." He took one off the wall and opened the body. "Or… not." No battery. He hung it back up and checked another with the same result, then a third. "None of them have any batteries. Dammit – it was _such_ a good idea, too."

"You're a boy – don't you keep a pack of condoms on you or something? Use that as a balloon, go back to the slingshot idea."

Conner blushed. "I'm a virgin," he muttered. "I don't walk around with condoms in my wallet, Rachel. If I needed one, I'd just go buy it from a convenience store – they're open at any hour." A snarky grin crept across his muzzle. "Why did you ask, anyhow? Did you want me to bring a pack back to your place later?"

"Grow up. I don't even _know_ you. Don't be a klutz; I'm sure there are batteries somewhere nearby – those things take rechargeable…" She trailed off then huffed in frustration. "Can you please just get your tail in order? My life could be on the line, here. This guy ordered a hit and I had to do a _lot_ of work to delete that picture from the computer networks on both ends. This guy still owns the hardcopy on a flashcard. So long as that camera card exists, he can overturn my hard work and repost my photograph. The more you joke around and flirt, the more danger I am in, which makes it difficult to help _you_. So, again, I ask you _please_… just _grow up_, Conner."

His grin broadened in realization that he somehow had enough of an effect on her to get a rise out of her. "Look, don't worry about it. I'll take care of the stupid radar thing – no offense but arguing with you isn't going to get things moving forward. If this camera is hidden in a locked area of the house, I'll force someone to activate the biometrics scanner and move on. We're just spinning our wheels here. Go ahead and put that virus on their network, I'll turn off the power before I leave." He grabbed two screwdrivers from a toolbox under the workbench and walked back to the rear exit. "Don't take this personally but _neither_ of us are being very professional tonight. Yeah, you're hot as hell and smart as can be but neither you nor me are really prepared tonight. Just…" he began working on the alarm system contacts. "Don't worry, we'll make sure your picture disappears. I've got it covered so just trust me, already." He reached for the Bluetooth earpiece in his ear and pressed in on a button located on the outer shell. The cellular call ended, effectively hanging up on her.

Once the door contacts were removed he wire-tied the two pieces together to keep the contacts connected. Cooper walked outside, behind the garage. He retrieved the metal vent cover and tossed it into the garage so it would be out of sight. He gathered two fistfuls of frozen soil and went back inside, closing the door behind himself. Next, the raccoon broke the dirt apart in his palm and covered the cold clumps with metallic shavings. He put a little bit of the dirt into his left jacket pocket then a big scoop of the metal dust shavings into his right jacket pocket. Finally, he carried it upstairs and located the sink then held the soil beneath the faucet.

He squeezed it together in his fist, so that the mud clump wouldn't crumble apart. Carefully, the teenage boy made his way back to the roof and climbed atop then walked to the front of the garage and crouched down, remaining low. He eyed the radar array, drew his fist back then stood up. In one smooth motion, he lifted his left foot, cocked his paw out, behind himself like a baseball pitcher then hurled the wad of mud over at the house.

With a resounding 'thud', the mud ball slammed into a rotating bar mounted on the roof of the house. Just then, the wind picked up, ruffling his fur. Conner knelt down again but the wind intensified further. Having a spur-of-the-moment idea, he reached into his pocket and scooped out some of the metallic dust he'd brought to make a second Chaff mud-grenade. Lifting his paw, he tossed the metallic ashes into the air, letting it float over towards the house.

He shook his head and muttered, "I should have packed dad's old parasail." The teenage boy watched as one of the outdoor guards moved into position between the garage and the house. He stood alone in the backyard, using his radio to speak with someone inside. Conner strained his ears but heard nothing over the wind. As soon as the guard lowered his radio, the young Cooper broke into a sprint. He dove off the edge of the roof and extended his legs downwards, sailing about five or six meters away from the two-story structure.

Much the same way he landed on the flagpole a little while ago, Conner absorbed the impact with his legs, coming down atop of the husky's head. Redirecting all the kinetic energy in his body, he re-extended his legs, launching himself back off the guard and into the air. He performed a graceful somersault and dove into thick hedges not far from the door to the house.

The guard dropped to the ground with a concussion. Moments later, two men exited the house from the backdoor, holding a conversation with one another, however Conner could not understand their language. One man said to his coworker, "Using _radar_ was a stupid idea, anyhow. Of _course_ it's going to malfunction. Every time a _bird_ smacks into the bar, it's going to report an anomaly."

The other man, also speaking Russian, said, "This was reporting a swarm of objects on the screen. The sensor is…" He paused and pointed at the man slumped in the back yard. "Look! One of the guards collapsed!" They rushed to either side of the fallen man and knelt to check his pulse. "He's alive, but unconscious!"

The other man took the radio from his belt and said, "We need backup out here. I want to search the parameter and I want two men to get a ladder and check the radar sensor. I want one person to stay inside and watch the boy!"

Within a minute, five more men poured out through the backdoor. Two of them went for the ladder mounted to the left outside wall of the garage. They returned to the house and headed for the roof. With everyone distracted, Conner made his move and slipped into the house through the back door.

He dusted the dirt from the palms of his gloves then removed his father's cane and used the hooked end to nudge a security camera located in the kitchen. From beneath, he pushed it upwards until it was facing the ceiling then he moved into a hallway. Conner drew out the tranquilizer pistol and held it at arm's length. Either side of the hallway opened up, a dining room on his left and a living room across the way.

He casually walked into the open area, ready to shoot anything that moved but both rooms were empty. At the end of the hall was a door. To the left and right was an intersecting hallway, over fifteen meters long in each direction. Conner opted to open the door directly in front of him. It was the master bedroom.

He grinned and closed the door behind himself, quickly searching the room. Every dresser drawer, under the bed, the closet and even a private bathroom; the camera was nowhere to be found. He returned to the door and opened it slowly, but no one was in the hall. Conner turned towards the rear portion of the house, walking down the hall, quietly checking doors. One was a closet full of fine coats, but didn't have the camera. The next room was a smaller, empty bedroom. It resembled a guest room but looked unused.

At the end of the hall, Conner opened another door, pointing the dart gun forward. A teenage boy, around eighteen years of age, looked up from a comfortable chair, facing a fancy television. His eyes moved from the weapon to Conner's face and he tilted his head. A fluffy, black and brown coyote, he sat up a bit and, in Russian, asked, "Are you here to kill _me_ or my _father_? If you're looking for dad, he's not home so you'll have to come back later and do the job _right_."

Conner shook his head rapidly and, in English, said, "I don't have that language in Rosetta Stone yet. Nighty-night." He aimed down the barrel of the pistol.

"You speak English?" asked the boy in a thick accent. "Are you British or American? If you're here for my father, he'll be home later – come back then and do your job _right_. Make sure you put that bullet right between his beady little eyes."

A blink of those twin amber orbs; Conner froze in the doorway, gawking at the other boy. "Holy crap, dude. You _want_ me to ice your old man? I'm just here to steal his camera."

"Camera?" repeated the boy in his thick dialect. "Oh, right, for taking digital photographs, yes? It's in the computer room, at the other end of the hall. How did you get passed the guards?" Then, abruptly, he said, "Dude? _Dude_? So, you _are_ American! Wonderful, take me back to America with you so I can find my mother and get out of this Godless, filthy country."

Cooper stepped the rest of the way into the bedroom and shut the door behind himself. "Well, that explains your species. I don't know of many natural-born coyotes in Russia. I'll tell you what – if you get me the camera, I won't shoot you. Deal?"

"If you're not going to kill me," said the older boy, "Then let me go with you. I won't hold you back; I just want to return to America. I'll find my mother on my own."

"I'm not _from_ America, dude – I live in…" Conner paused. He _almost_ said, 'the French Alps', but caught himself from making such an unprofessional mistake. "I live somewhere in Europe, bud. And I can't _kill_ you anyhow. This is a tranquilizer gun. I'm just here for the camera then I'm out of here. If you want to run away, you'll have to do it on your own."

"Have you _seen_ how many guards are out there? Obviously, you _must_ have! _Their_ guns are _very_ real. If you managed to get through them, you should be able to get me out of this house. Give me a minute to grab my passport, my wallet and some money. I'm going with you, else you'll just have to shoot me because you're my ticket to freedom."

Conner shook his head in confusion. "Are you _kidding_?" He walked across the room and put the barrel of the gun against the coyote's forehead. "Take me to the computer room. I need that camera then I'm leaving… _alone_."

"You'll need a fast car," said the boy, adding, "By the way, my name is Sergei Gurlukovich. You can call me by my nickname – it's a play on lettering of my first name… _Surge_. If you can get me out of this house, I'll help you go wherever you want. I have one of the fastest cars in town."

"If you have your own car," Conner asked, backing away slowly, "Then why don't you leave on your _own_? Show me the computer room, walk nice and slow but don't dawdle, either."

"My father won't let me go without an armed escort," replied Sergei. "He says it's for my protection but it's really just a babysitter who keeps me from leaving. It's a classic; you'll be missing out on a fantastic getaway car… It's a '67 AC Shelby Cobra MK III, with five hundred fifty bhp – that's over _seven liters_ – of power. Tuned up, it'll reach speeds in excess of three hundred kilometers per hour."

Conner clinched his right paw around the gun and put it into a holster on his belt. "Dammit. Is it a convertible?"

"Of course, buddy. Leave the driving to me, though. No offence, but regardless of who you are, I'm still better." He went for his credentials and winter coat. "Stop worrying, friend! You've not lived until you've driven a small two-seater car at three hundred kilometers, wide open on highway." His dialect was thick, pronouncing his words like, '_Tree hun-dreed keel-o-meters, v'eyed o-peen on high-'vay._' He opened his bedroom door and peered out into the empty hall. "Thee coast is very… how you say… clear," he explained, sounding much like, '_Thee coast ee's weary, how you say, clee'air._"

Conner reached into his pocket, redialing Rachel's number. After a few seconds, her voice came from the earpiece in his left ear. "Listen, things have changed. I'm catching a ride with Gurlukovich's kid, Sergei. He's desperate to get away from his father and maybe you can _ask_ him why his old man wants to kill you. The way I see it, if I bail with this guy… the mob will assume he was being rebellious and they won't investigate."

"Dammit, Conner! What if he turns around and rats us out to his father _later on_? Think! He now knows what you look like and…"

Cooper turned around, following the boy calling himself 'Surge' out into the hallway just in time to see Sergei deliver an uppercut to the last remaining guard in the house. It was then that Conner saw just how large the boy's upper body really was. The coyote pulled his heavy coat on, glanced over his shoulder at the raccoon then motioned that the hall was now clear.

"Holy crap," said the young teen, interrupting Rachel. "He just _flattened_ that guard with a single punch. Look, he's getting the camera for us and is going to take me out to the edge of town in his car. He said he'd leave us alone. He just wants to get away from his father and the mafia babysitters. Just meet me outside of town, I'll call you with something more exact as soon as possible."

"Dumb, impetuous, unable to follow a plan; you're _immature_! Furthermore…"

Conner lifted a paw to his earpiece and pressed a button, ending the call. He hurried after 'Surge' and withdrew his dart pistol again. The raccoon gave his father's cane a twirl then put it back into the bag on his shoulder. He entered the door at the end of the hallway. The room was large and had a computer workstation on the right side and a collection of archaic weapons on the left.

Sergei glanced over his shoulder at the raccoon then retrieved a fancy leather belt with a shoulder strap that was over near the swords. "Use this, my friend. If you're going to sheathe your fancy cane, don't hide it in an ugly bag like that… it makes you look like a broke musician." He crossed the room and pointed to the computer station. "It's in the top drawer. I'm assuming your _real_ desire is the media card inside of it? If you steal the whole camera, he'll know something is up, but if you take just the card…" Sergei grinned. "He'll think he misplaced it and never realize what you're looking for… else if it's the camera you want, you would have just bought the same model online, correct?"

The raccoon stuffed the harness into his coat pocket for the time being. "Give me the camera," said Conner. He lifted his left paw and Sergei tossed it across the room. The raccoon turned on the digital camera and checked through the photographs. The fourth picture was a close-up of Rachel in her car. He formatted the digital card then tossed the camera back to the coyote. "There. I erased everything. Now he won't even know something was missing to begin with. Let's get the hell out of here – where is your car?"

"In the basement, follow me!"

Conner blinked. "I didn't see a ramp leaving the property, how…?" He shrugged. "I guess I'll find out. Let's hurry, before they come back inside and shoot us."

"Oh, they'll only shoot _you_, my friend," said Surge with a hearty chuckle. "You should try and relax and take things in stride, like your father." He walked to the door, glanced out into the abandoned hallway and waved. "Follow me."

The raccoon's eyes widened. "And, just who is my father, since you know so much about me."

"Sly Cooper – you look _just like him_. Funny how that works, friend… Your father's looks and your mother's temper. Hurry, I heard shouting outside – they're probably coming back down from the rooftop. I don't know what you did to the radar but I'm glad – we'll be able to leave in my car and they won't know which way we're headed until we're out of its range." He hurried down the hall, turned at the intersection and passed the living room and dining area. A door near the kitchen led down to the basement.

Conner hurried after him and shut the door behind himself. Up ahead, Sergei turned on the florescent lighting, which flickered to life. The raccoon stepped off the last stair and approached the coyote. "How did you know my parents?" He glanced away from the older boy and blinked at the expensive collection of automobiles. "Good grief! Your dad has some serious money – I think I understand what's going on, here."

"Yes, it's rather obvious… My father approached your parents for work. He asked your mother to investigate someone who was stealing money from him electronically, across the boarder to god-only-knows what country. But that was just a convenient front. He discretely hired your father to steal a document that would incriminate the Gurlukovich family from a safe deposit box." He walked away from the raccoon and down a line of impressive cars. All make and models from various years dating back a century, the garage was neat, clean and smelled like leather seats and rubber tires. "You'll need a warm hat," added the coyote. He pulled an Ushanka from another nearby car and tossed it to Conner. "Ushanka – it means 'ear flaps hat' in Russian language." Near the end of the line was a sparkle-blue Shelby Cobra two-seater convertible. It had white pacer stripes painted over the top, from back to front and chrome exhaust pipes on the sides, beneath the doors.

"This one is yours, huh?" Conner still couldn't believe it. He moved around to the passenger side on the right. He put his hat on and sat down in the lush leather seat. It didn't have a headrest, but a large metal bar rose above the seats, on the back. "What is that thing for?"

"Incase it rolls over, of course," replied Sergei. "Keep your head down, friend. Something tells me that your mother would come back here and have a fit if anything happened to you – she has a temper like a…" He paused, looking for the words while sliding into the driver's seat.

"Latina," muttered Conner. "Yeah, she's fiery. So, is this thing fast? You don't own any of those other cars?"

"I have another one – hybrid power, very good on gas. They'll catch us in _that_ car." Gurlukovich grinned and started the engine. It roared to life, causing the car to tremble from the raw power channeled through the engine mounts and into the frame. Sergei put the vehicle into gear and floored the accelerator. The back wheels spun wildly, which caused a piercing '_screech'_ on the waxed floor. The small car lurched forward then up a steep ramp. The coyote reached under the dash and touched a button, causing a large door to open at the end of the tunnel. "Hold on, my friend! Remember! Keep your head down!"

Conner felt around for a seat belt but couldn't find one. He reached beneath himself and gripped the bottom of the seat, keeping his head low. The canvas case of the cane on his back stuck straight up in the air – he could feel the air drag against it as the car accelerated wildly. "Where's the damn seat belt, Sergei?"

"You're kidding, yes?" The car reached the end of the ramp and, for a brief moment, went airborne. The wheels touched down and the suspension absorbed the force, but not before causing a brief flash of sparks to illuminate the bottom of the vehicle like a futuristic ground effects kit.

Conner gasped, realizing he'd forgotten to kill the power before leaving. "I need to turn out the juice, man! Get me somewhere I can cut the power!"

"No time to stop! The box is _over there_!" said the darkly furred coyote, pointing to a telephone pole and the wire that came in from the street, attaching to the side of the house.

"Crap," muttered the raccoon, reaching for his tranquilizer pistol but it was stuck in his pocket at the angle in which he sat. "Damn, I need my gun!"

"Use this one," replied Sergei, handing over a magnum from under his seat.

The teenage raccoon eyed the weapon then took it and aimed carefully. To buy Conner some time, Sergei slammed the brakes for a moment, leaving skid marks in the street, just on the other side of the property line. The coyote chuckled and, in a chiding tone, said, "One chance, friend… don't blow it."

"Hush!" Conner pulled the trigger. The gun lifted above his head from recoil but the bullet made its mark. The electric panel burst into sparks on the wall of the house. "Yeah! Tennessee Kid Cooper couldn't have done it _any_ better!" The Shelby Cobra lurched forward, causing him to drop the gun into the street. The raccoon cursed loudly and said, "I lost your gun! Where are the flippin' seatbelts, Sergei?"

"Worry not, friend! There will be more guns in our lifetime. Losing one isn't the end of the world. Besides, I only had one round in the chamber. Like I said, only one chance!" Again, the vehicle picked up speed, creating wind drag on Conner's cane bag. Sergei reached over and patted the ducking raccoon on his shoulder. "Historical plates, friend! I could drive all over America without a seatbelt, too! Ralph Nader be damned!"

"…Who?" Conner shouted over the roar of the wind and the motor.

"Nevermind, Cooper! Was joke – went right over your head, it did! Nader was guy who liked driving slow in America; wrote a book almost fifty years ago, saying fast driving is bad. He was as green and red as communist Christmas Tree! Haha! Now _that_ is funny, yeah? A communist Christmas Tree? Get it? Communist… Christmas? Funny, right?"

"Just… watch the road," the raccoon called out. "Let me know when I can sit up, will ya'?"

"Not yet, Cooper! We have company. Be glad we don't have seat belt in this car, yeah? This car would crush up like… like tin can at this speed. Be trusting me, friend, you'd _much rather_ be ejected than squished-all-up like a bug beneath a boot!" The coyote laughed heartily, obviously empowered by adrenaline. "Don't worry, though! They're driving AvtoVAZ cars! None of them will keep up with seven liters, over five hundred horses of power at the flywheel, eh?" He glanced in the rearview and said, "Oh… look at _you_, Sergey – the reason I want my name changed – he spells it the _dumb_ way," added 'Surge' in a mocking tone. "Want to race, Sergey Bastrykin? You have no chance against _me_!"

"What's going on?" asked Conner from his uncomfortable position, still holding tight to the base of the passenger seat.

"Head of security for my father! This one is from Tskhinvali – capital of South Ossetia. He's no racecar driver! He thinks he can keep up in that silver sluggish old Mercedes SL 65 AMG… looks like a 2010 model, 'black' series; hmm, perhaps they only made it in 2009... I could be wrong!"

"Whatever!" Not a car enthusiast, Conner glanced up at Sergei and asked, "How fast can it go?"

"Oh, I suppose about three hundred twenty-five kilometers an hour, friend. A fast car but it weighs twenty-two hundred kilograms. We're about two hundred kilograms less… almost five hundred American pounds."

The raccoon was confused. "I thought newer cars were made out of lighter materials. Why would he weigh more?"

"From the nitro tank, reserve fuel tank, raised intake scoop on the hood, bulletproof windshield. Stop worrying, will you? Yes, friend, it's a nice car – twelve cylinders, almost seven hundred horsepower and, don't worry, it's governed back to three hundred twenty kilometers. This Shelby Cobra isn't governed at all. You're growing nervous? Don't! Just relax and enjoy the race."

"How can I?" shouted Conner, "I can't sit up, I don't have a seatbelt and Russian roads are _not_ designed for that kind of speed!"

"Exactly why we'll win," said Surge with a chuckle. "That silly car is _too low_ to the ground. I know just where to go – there are streets that are still paved with cobblestone bricks! Relax, friend!" He noted that Cooper was starting to sit up and he quickly shoved the raccoon's head back down. "If he thinks there is more than one of us in this car, friend… he'll start shooting. Just relax, yes? That bi-turbo engine is electronically controlled. Don't you know what happens to electronics after fifteen years of abuse?" He reached a paw up and patted the dashboard of his Shelby Cobra. "Nothing better than old fashion mechanical engineering. You worry too much!"

"Cobblestone!" exclaimed Conner. "Are you _serious_? I saw how low this car is, too!"

"We have _seven centimeters_ more ground clearance!" laughed the Russian boisterously. "My gas tank holds _forty-two gallons_, far more than the Mercedes. Even if he tries to keep up, he can't hold out forever! This is a full-competition racecar, no bumpers, better suspension!"

"Enough with the car talk," shouted Conner. "I don't follow it and I'm not interested! Can you outrun him? I thought you said we were being followed by slow cars?"

Surge chuckled and patted Conner's shoulder. "Yes, the Avtovaz cars… six of them. But the Mercedes broke through the pack, and now there's _another_ one, behind _him_. Moskvich dragster – if I recall it, that particular one has a Maserati engine, also with bi-turbo. Nothing to worry about, it's only five liters of engine, yes? Neither car has large enough tank of the gas to keep up with us! Haha, this is like being in an action movie from Hollywood!"

Conner shifted his weight and turned around, sliding down into the floor panel, with his arms and face down on the seat. "I got tired of hitting my head on the dash," he explained. "Keep those eyes on the road. I can't make use of the harness you gave me for my cane if I become road kill!"

"Good, keep your head low and watch our company! Let me know if they are trying anything that is… ah… the _sneaky_. You should have no worries, Cooper! Aren't you born and raised in France? Ah, I could only _dream_ of driving in Le Mans! It's a shame the rules now call for three drivers or more. And, furthermore, no one driver is allowed to drive more than fourteen hours combined. Hardly fair, if you ask me! An endurance race should be about drivers who are good enough to endure a twenty-four hour race and…"

"DRIVE!" Conner narrowed his eyes. "I don't care if those people see me at this point, let'em get up besides us! I'll use my cane to shred their tires – let them flip over for all I care! Just get us out of town so I can meet up with my team."

"A team, yes friend? Quite the professional you are, Cooper. Of course, I'm sure that comes from the family bloodline. Let's _not_ let them catch up to us; their gun will do more damage than your cane in close quarters; we'll save that option as our last hope of desperate measures. Call your friends and have them meet us. I'm willing to go anywhere they feel is particularly safe, just name the place."

"Like I'd be able to hear the phone," said the raccoon. "I'll text them – just drive for now!" He withdrew the tranquilizer gun and placed it on the leather seat. "If he gets close, I'll shoot out his tires. He won't even know I'm shooting at him."

"No bang, like a real gun, Cooper?"

"No, this fires le soupir amoureux. It's powerful enough to puncture a radial tire, though. I wouldn't imagine he'd have his window down, though, would he?"

Again, the coyote laughed. "Obviously he _would_ have his window down! If he saw someone else in the car with me, he would have no compunction about shooting at us with a _real_ gun. His window would be in the 'down' position for that! Stop fretting and enjoy the ride – they'll never catch up to us and will run out of gas _long_ before they could ever get close! How do you like your hat?" He reached over and pulled the string atop of the Ushanka hat, causing two flaps to drop down on either side of Conner's face. "Blinders, yes? Focus on what is behind us – make sure you let me know if they get any closer!" He reached for the shifter stick and changed from fourth gear down to second. The Cobra roared and accelerated rapidly.

The vehicle's throaty growl changed to a guttural scream from changing the gear. Surprisingly, it was easy to hold a conversation in the convertible, even at high speeds. They had to speak with a tone louder than normal room conversation from the roar of the engine but the natural airflow provided a pocket behind the windshield.

Conner peered over the back end of the car and sighed. "You're sure his windshield is bulletproof? I'd love to pop off a round. At this speed, it would go right through the glass with ease."

"Shy of a Snayperskaya vintovka Dragunova, seven point six-two millimeter round, fired straight into his windshield… your cause is hopeless, friend!"

"What the hell did you say?" exclaimed Conner, peering back at the encroaching Mercedes. "He's freakin' gaining on us!"

"Dragunov, a sniper rifle made for…"

"Drive!" He drew in a deep breath then shouted again, "Just DRIVE! I don't care about guns or cars or the specs of _anything_! Just focus on the road!"

"Driving is about feel, not focus!" The coyote shrugged. "You may sit up and watch the road with me if you like. It's up to you – I'd prefer not to evade bullets, Cooper. But I have the road well in hand. You're just being nervous because you cannot see it, nor do you have control right now. Trust me, friend, you'd rather have me driving than anyone else you've ever met. And you'd rather be in this car! I once drag raced a Dodge Viper and beat it by over one-and-a-half seconds! That's a large margin on such a short track!"

"For the last time," muttered the raccoon, "Drive before _I_ shoot at you."

"I _am_ driving," he said, adding, "Hold on." He cut the wheel to the left, right, overcompensated back to the left and eased back to the right. An umbrella flew overtop the car in the flash of an eye. The rich Russian accent added flavor to his light display of temper. "What idiot restaurant owner has the gull to allow his patrons to sit at tables half-way into the street, I am asking of you? It makes no sense." Surge lifted his left paw, waving it about in conversation.

"Both hands on the wheel, Sergei, _please_. You're worrying me, here."

The coyote chuckled, shaking his head, looking calm and relaxed again. "You're so much like your mother. Shoot first, let her superiors apologize later. So much fire in your heart, Cooper – get ready, the street turns bumpy here!" He moved into third then fourth gear.

Heading through town, the Shelby Cobra gracefully moved from the asphalt to brick streets, occasionally brushing uneven lumps in the road. Conner peered back at the Mercedes and the flashy displays of sparks that emanated beneath the vehicle. The Moskvich dragster, with far better ground clearance, moved smoothly over the brick streets with no incident. Far in the distance, six Russian-made cars rounded a turn, entering the town area. They were growing hard to discern, left in the dust.

A gunshot ran out. The bullet streaked overhead, followed by another. The second round struck the chrome horseshoe shaped bar behind the seats. The metallic sound, highlighted with a brilliant flash of sparks, hummed for a matter of seconds.

Sergei rolled his eyes. "Pretty close, eh friend? You can sit up now. If he's going to shoot at _me_, your presence no longer makes any difference. Let us hope he does not put holes in our gas tank!"

"I thought you said you could out-drive this guy!" Conner shouted at the top of his lungs. "Either impress me or switch seats with me!"

"Oh, it's like that now?" The coyote changed into second gear, let off the accelerator and cut the wheel hard. Going into the turn, he put his right foot back down into the gas pedal, powering through the turn. With the weight of the gas in the back, the car was evenly balanced allowing the Cobra to drift around the corner. Sergei carefully counter-turned to keep the drift well managed in consideration of the lumpy surface. From the brick road, the power slide shook the driver and his passenger wildly. He cut the wheel hard in the direction opposite of the turn, to hold control through the drifting slide maneuver.

The little blue car slowed from the uneven street surface. Surge stomped on his clutch pedal and released it multiple times, through the slide, to force quick bursts of torque into the tires. Coming out of the drifting slide, he stomped the gas pedal again, adding throttle to power outward, away from the corner. The Shelby Cobra evened out and climbed in speed. The coyote switched from third and, finally, into fourth gear.

Behind them, the Mercedes slowed down, unable to drift on the lumpy bricks with its low profile street tires and ultra-low front end. It took the turn cautiously then its driver dropped into first gear, causing its V-12 to scream. A brilliant blue illuminated the backside of the car, an indication of a flash-flame. It began to catch up once more, slowly climbing the gap of three hundred meters, approximately the distance of a football field.

"C'mon! Get out of my way, you silly people," muttered Sergei. He winced in anticipation, leaving Cooper confused by his look. Suddenly, a resounding 'thunk' filled the air, followed by a massive cloud of newspapers.

"Lord Almighty," bemoaned the raccoon, craning his head back to look over the dashboard. A crowded street full of people were running every which way. He glanced back at the coyote's paws, noting how the Russian calmly eased the wheel in gentle nudges from left to right. Conner looked back over his shoulder, watching the sea of people part for the automobile, effortlessly missing every person before them. His eyes widened, seeing something strange up ahead, in the clearing of what looked like a park. "What the hell is _that_?"

"Quickly, Cooper, hand me your cane!" Sergei held his right paw out expectantly and said, "It's a Zubr-Micro gunship and is just the distraction we need!"

Conner pulled his cane from the bag, holding onto it tightly as he lifted it up into the wind. He passed it to Sergei, confusion still marring his brow. "What the hell for? Why are there _hovercraft_ ships in Astrakhan? "

"It's part of the Caspian Flotilla, friend… just…" He glanced back in the rearview mirror as another gunshot whizzed overhead. "…Keep your head down!" The coyote snatched the cane, moving it to his left hand and angling the hooked end outside of the car. He braced the staff against the dashboard, behind the steering wheel. He lifted his feet in an awkward position and pushed them forward to keep the cane in place, paws on the wheel to keep the car steady. "Hold on!"

Outraged and confused, Conner watched in horror as the hooked end of the cane was used to tear through the port side of the inflated skirt. The beached gunship listed hard, moving towards the Cobra, which passed by in what seemed like an instant. A strip of the black mesh, caught on the end of the cane, flapped in the wind.

"A freaking _hovercraft_ was in town, _on land_? What the hell is going on here?" shouted the raccoon. "What the f-" His sentence was cut short by more gunshots. He glanced back, behind the Shelby Cobra, watching the hovercraft, which was now out of control. More gunshots continued as the Mercedes narrowly avoided being driven off the road and continued in its pursuit. However, the Moskvich dragster was forced into a row of other cars, lining the street. The hovercraft continued drifting hard to port until it collided with the row of parked cars, driving over the Moskvich and crushing it.

"Be calm!" Sergei passed the cane back to Conner and eased his feet back beneath the dash, dropping into second gear to build up speed again. "There has to be a reason they would beach a marine craft like that, Cooper. From Chechnya to Astrakhan, guerilla warfare has increased, causing for the Russian military to keep the peace, not to mention pursuit of pirates. We're near where the Volga River dumps into the Caspian Sea, friend! Expect to occasionally see maritime gear, yes? This far north, the Caspian is not so very deep. What's the word?"

Conner swallowed back his nerves, watching as the Mercedes began to gain on them again. "Uh," he drew off into silence, keeping his attention on the fancy silver car behind them. "…Shallow." The raccoon picked at the black mesh fabric on the hook of the cane. He worked the piece loose then lifted his paw, letting the wind take it from him. "I've never seen a hovercraft up on land… it was… right in the middle of the park, going along the road… I just…" Cooper craned his head a bit, trying to work the cane back into the canvas bag on his back. "Technically, you just attacked a _military_ vehicle."

"Stay down," said Gurlukovich, eyeing his rearview mirror. "Things are going to get interesting." His statement was punctuated by a thunderous noise beyond comprehension.

"What the hell was…?" Conner's question was disrupted by a turbulent sound that shook the earth. He looked up just in time to see bricks flying through the air, along with dirt, clay and other debris. The Mercedes emerged from a cloud of dust, falling bricks marred its front end and the passenger rearview mirror dangled by a wire from the vehicle's frame. His voice sounded both nervous and excited. "Was that what I think it was? Did that gunship just fire on us?"

The coyote appeared unfazed. "It certainly did not come from Sergey Bastrykin's handgun!" He jerked the wheel hard, entering an open highway. Next, he throttled the engine causing another jump. The Shelby Cobra responded with a muscular noise. The Mercedes hit a slight dip getting onto the highway, which caused the entire front bumper to dislodge. It fell away from the car, rolling off to the side of the road in the distance. Again, it began to gain on them.

"He's starting to _piss me off_," said Cooper, his ears laid back, beneath the fuzzy hat on his head. His eyes narrowed and he barred his teeth. "I'm going to rip him apart. Get me close to his car; your stunt with my cane gave me an idea."

"Don't speak so foolishly," replied Surge with a shake of his head. "Have you ever any idea of what you're suggesting, Cooper? At his speed, that vehicle weighs far more than the twenty hundred kilograms you're expecting. Force of thrust adds weight, plus momentum and… striking it with your cane is silly, friend! Kinetic energy will flow right back into your cane and possibly throw you right out of the car, but most likely it will rip your cane from your palm."

Conner was determined. He withdrew his cane and said, "If we're going the same speed then _I_ have energy, too. Get close to him. He won't shoot you – he works for your father. He might try and plug away at your engine or wheels so be careful."

"You're a foolish boy," said the older teen. "I don't want to be caught, either. Don't endanger my chances of escape, Cooper."

"There's only _one way_ to get this guy off our case. I'm going to shred his tires with the hook – I don't know if a tiny dart from my tranquilizer pistol will do a damn thing; just get me close. See if you can hit the brakes and get on his passenger side, so he can't shoot at us."

"If I put him in front," said Surge, "Then it's obvious that he will have the control, see? He can run us off the road by forcing us into the wall if we get alongside of him. You'll need to be on his driver side, so that you can reach for his tires from out of your side of the car, but you'll have to be quick so he does not shoot _you_."

"Dammit," muttered Cooper. Suddenly the Shelby Cobra jerked to the left, avoiding a rear-end collision with a vehicle that was traveling at a slower speed. It zipped by; they passed it as though it stood still.

"You're absolutely sure this is something you wish to try?" The coyote shook his head with a chuckle. "I'm willing to risk it just to see if you're gutsy enough to try it!"

"Just get close to him!" Conner moved up into the passenger seat on his knees. The Ushanka hat flew off his head in the wind. His short, gray tousled locks of hair whipped about madly. He recalled the sessions of focus with his father and, keeping his mental energy channeled, time around him seemed to slow. The engine noise felt far away, a dull roar deep in pitch. He canted his head, nodding to the coyote to make a move.

The Shelby Cobra's brake lights illuminated and the Mercedes moved forward, coming alongside the smaller blue car. He jabbed the hook out, brushing the tip against the front right wheel of the chasing vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, the raccoon noticed the window beginning to lower; he saw a glint of light on the barrel of a handgun.

The rubber wheel began to fray but surprisingly the car didn't lose control or jerk away suddenly. His eyes lifted again, watching the window continue to lower. The barrel of the gun eased forward. Conner moved the cane from his right paw to his left then reached for the metal horseshoe shaped bar behind the Shebly Cobra's seats. Bracing himself, he used the cane in his left paw to swipe at the gun in the window.

It was growing difficult to focus from everything that was happening and he was losing his concentration. Striking the gun, it flew out of the driver's grasp, through the window and disappeared. The cane's hook snagged the smaller window, behind the driver's head. All at once, time exploded forward at full speed and the Mercedes passed. His cane's hook-arch snagged on the doorframe of the coupe as it streaked by the Shelby Cobra. Without thinking, Conner released the chrome pole from his right paw and reached for the fulcrum of his father's cane. The force pulled his body from the blue car – he lurched forward and instinctively put his foot on the blue door then pushed off of it, propelling himself towards the other car.

The hook of the cane remained caught up on the doorframe and he swiveled about until his feet met the rear glass pane of the Mercedes SL 65 AMG Black edition. It shattered and he swung around, holding on dearly to the cane. His body spilled into the gap behind the seats of the Russian wolf's small car. The cane flew from his hands and disappeared.

Conner lay there, splayed unceremoniously across the small back section, wedged between the backside of the bucket seats and the solid rear panel. He watched helplessly as the cane flew out the back window. His sister would be right. His father would be angry. Everything that happened was his entire fault. His heart sank.

A fist struck him across the face, dazing him. It woke him up from watching the cane disappear out on the dark highway. His eyes widened and anger coursed through his lithe frame. He screamed with rage at the top of his lungs, struggling from where he was wedged behind the seat. Again, another fist crossed his muzzle. Conner lost his temper.

The tachometer on the dashboard revved past the 'eight' and the electronic governor reported an electronic interference error. The dash-panel lit up like a decorated Christmas tree. The tachometer needle dropped to 'zero' and the car stalled, still drifting forward at over two hundred fifty kilometers per hour.

The driver panicked, unable to properly steer or brake. Behind the car, the spoiler lowered into the frame and a piercing noise from the transmission box startled the wolf. Conner forced himself to sit up just enough that he saw a solid concrete wall through the front windshield. He dropped back down, pulling one arm free with which to cover his face. Meanwhile, the wolf gripped the top of the wheel with both his paws.

Through his fingers, Conner Cooper saw the airbag deploy. It struck the wolf square in his jaw, but not before first breaking both of his wrists in a split-second. His body jerked forward, caught by the seatbelt. The front end of the vehicle lifted up until the hood scoop was visible in the bulletproof windshield. It was the only armored part of the vehicle, resilient enough not to turn into a complete spider web upon impact.

Conner's body rose up from the force, throwing him over the headrests and uncomfortably into the dashboard. Something grazed his hip as he careened through the small interior of the once-elegant Mercedes. The elevated rear end of the car, its wheels still churning, dropped back to the pavement forcefully. The rear axel snapped, leaving the car to rest upon its belly.

Cooper sat up with a groan, abruptly hitting his head on the intact windshield. A piece of metal rebar poked in through the wrinkled roof, stopping a few inches from his forehead. The fourteen-year-old boy glanced over at the wolf, slumped in the driver seat. His neck was broken from where the raccoon's hip hit the back of his head while flying through the small cabin. The Russian's muzzle was bloody from where his airbag struck him and his forearms were crooked and unnatural looking.

Full of adrenaline, Conner quickly forced his way over the half-deflated airbags in an attempt to crawl out of the car through either broken side window. His knuckles brushed against the rearview mirror, which hung down from a wire, in front of the concrete rebar jutting in through the roof.

"Dad's cane!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, still in shock. "Oh my God, it flew out the window!" he cried, kicking away the passenger side airbag. He choked on the dust from the bag's deployment and wiggled towards the driver side window, head first. "I lost it on the street, shit! Oh my _God_, the family is going to _kill me_!"

He gripped the crumpled window frame and pulled his body out then abruptly fell to the ground, landing on his shoulder. He rolled away, pulling his legs out of the shattered window and flopped onto his side. Cooper scrambled to his feet and hobbled down the road, in the direction he thought his cane would be. Several steps out, he staggered and nearly fell to the ground.

"My dad's cane!" he shouted in shock. "It's a family heirloom," he added, abruptly switching from English to French. "Where is it!" he exclaimed, limping his way down the road. The canvas bag was still on his back; the strap was twisted up, bunching up his heavy winter coat at his shoulder. He shouted expletives in French at the top of his lungs, quickening his pace down the road. "Where is it?"

A piece of glass stuck out of his shoulder, opposite of where the canvas case was strapped to his torso. A mere itch, he reached for the offending nip of pain, surprised when his fingers brushed against the object. He jerked it clean from the wound, causing it to crumble in his palm. Bloody glass shards fell to the ground. "I don't have time for this! Where dad's cane!" he demanded.

A silver Honda Accord skidded to a halt near by and Rachel launched herself from the door. "Conner! Jesus, I saw the whole goddamn highway chase from up the block! Are you okay? That was the craziest, most idiotic stunt I've ever seen!" Her voice sounded a mile away to him.

"Where's dad's cane?" he shouted in French. Then, hearing her speak in English, he switched back without realizing it. "I can't lose it!"

"Lose what?" she quipped, hurrying towards him, immediately taking note of the blood on the front of his coat. "Oh my God, Conner, you're bleeding for chri'sake!"

"I need my dad's cane!" he cried, brushing passed her. "I lost it on the road; I can't lose it!"

"Are you _kidding me_?" she exclaimed. "We have to get the hell out of here before the cops show up! You need medical attention!" she added.

"To hell with that!" he roared. "I need the Cooper Cane! I can't leave without it!" In the distance, police sirens filled the air. Their wail was a crescendo.

"We'll come back!" she promised. "If we go to jail, we can't come back and look for it! Get in the car!"

"I need to…!"

Rachel grabbed him by the canvas bag strapped to his back. "YOU CAN'T LOOK FOR IT …IF YOU'RE IN JAIL!"

At the top of his lungs, Cooper shouted the most vituperative, heinous curse that came to his mind. He pivoted on his heel then almost collapsed, his ankle weak from injuries. She hooked her paw beneath his arm, keeping him on his feet. With her help, they quickly made their way to the Accord, which pulled away slowly, joining into the light evening traffic along the highway.

Rachel, too, was in a mild state of shock. "I can't believe he drove straight into that roadside building. What the hell happened? I saw the whole thing!"

"Circle back around, we'll drive along the road and see if we can't find the cane. It's probably in the middle of the road. We have to find it before someone stops and picks it up or before the police confiscate it or…!"

"Conner!" Her demand for his attention caused him to stop speaking in mid sentence. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the road. "It's a good thing I was driving to the rendezvous point. You guys blazed right by it and I thought to myself, '_What the hell_?' then I saw you merge onto the highway and I watched you stand up on your knees and try to attack that guy and his car with your stupid cane! You could have gotten yourself killed! THEN! You grabbed onto his car somehow and swung around and kicked in his back window. Are you _crazy_?"

"I fell out!" he shouted, adding, "At the last second, I jumped at his car, because it seemed like a good alternative to falling into the road at the speed of '_God-knows how fast we were going_' so just give me a break!"

"You should have died, you flippin' clown!"

"Pull over," said the boy.

"What?" She glared at him, perplexed by his request.

"Pull over, _now_!" he shouted, reaching for the door handle. Rachel's eyes widened at his actions and she quickly swerved into the shoulder lane, coming to a complete stop. Conner opened the door, leaned his head out and opened his muzzle. The quick end to his adrenaline high brought about an intense sickness in his stomach. He closed his eyes and winced in anticipation of bile. The vile liquid rushed up from his stomach, emptying onto the pavement.

Rachel took a moment to look behind the car. In the distance, police cars crowded around the wrecked Mercedes, but none of them continued on in pursuit. She breathed a sigh of relief. "What about the driver of that fancy silver car?"

Conner coughed a few times, dry heaved then cleared his throat and spit out the excess taste of vomit. "Dead. He's…" The raccoon gagged, spit again then sat up, panting hard. "He's dead. He died on impact, his head was lying on his shoulder – it was obvious. I did that."

"He died on impact, you said so yourself." She waited until he closed the door and sat back then merged back into the lane, pulling away. "I'll circle around _one time_. If we don't see it then that is too bad. We cannot stay in this area with all those cops… so… _one time_."

Conner reclined his seat and sighed. "Just tell me when we're back in the area. I feel like crap." He drew in a long, slow breath then told her, "I flew over his seat when we hit the wall. I think I might have killed him. I can't get that image out of my brain – his head hanging down like that… I broke his goddamn neck; it wasn't my fault, but…" Cooper ran his fingers through his hair, brushing away flecks of glass. "That was unnerving. We _have_ to find dad's cane." His paw moved to a lumpy pocket in his coat and he pulled out the leather harness. "…Dammit."

"It will show up somewhere," she said. "I'll track it down by scouring the Internet if we don't find it, okay?" She turned to the right and headed back towards town, making another right at the next light. "Listen, Conner… No more stunts like that, else we're not working together anymore. You said you were thrown around the inside of that tiny car? There's no reason why you got as lucky as you did. Don't be stupid twice in a row."

"I think I flew into the airbags or something. I found myself on the dashboard."

"Good lord, you should have gone through the windshield."

He shook his head and groaned from the dizziness. "It was bulletproof – too thick to shatter. I wonder where Surge went… I hope he got away."

"So, wait… Gurlukovich was the guy's kid? He _helped_ you? What the hell was all of that about?"

"Let's talk about it later," said Conner. "It all happened so fast, I'm not even sure what just happened. Let's just find my cane and get back to your place. I need a hot bath."

"You _need_ a doctor!"

"If I'm in bad shape tomorrow, I'll consider it! For now, we drive the area and look for the cane then we head back to your place." He shook his head and frowned. "If I lost it, I just have to find out where it went and get it back." Calmer than he was right after the wreck, he was able to keep his temper in check. "It's as simple as that. I can't let it fall into the wrong hands."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Conner rubbed his face with his paws. "It's a long story. Just… drive."

"We're almost there. Holy _crap_, look at _that_!"

He sat up in the seat, squinting. Up ahead, a hovercraft was jutting out of a one-story building with two military cars and two police cars surrounding it. Further up the road, another cop car was marking off a crater from an exploded shell. A crew was working to get at the mafia car and its driver still trapped beneath the hovercraft. The raccoon dropped back into the reclined chair and murmured. "I still can't believe…" He trailed off, shook his head and said, "That stupid thing had _no business_ being out of the water."

"…Wait," Rachel said, slowly. "Did you and that guy… _cause_ this?"

"I wasn't driving," muttered the teenage boy. "They shouldn't have been there. What the hell kind of crap is that? Who drives a _hovercraft_ into town, through a local park and along the street? I wouldn't have believed it without seeing it in person, first. And it's _still_ stupid. I thought those things needed to float on _water_. It shouldn't have been in the goddamn streets."

"Calm down," she snorted in disdain. "Okay, sit up… we're coming around – I see the onramp to the highway up ahead. Pay attention and keep sharp." Within a few minutes, the Accord made its way to the highway. She accelerated up to the speed limit and they began cruising along the road, keeping a watch out for any sign of the golden cane. At her speed, it took several minutes to get back to where the police were swarmed around a crumpled Mercedes. There was no sign of Conner's cane anywhere to be found.

He slumped back in despair, his head pounding and his heart heavy. Rachel turned the wheel to head home and he looked out the passenger window. His eyes watered up, fighting back secret tears, worried he might never see the cane again. After half an hour of horrible silence, Rachel reached over and patted his knee gently.

"Hey, I'm sorry you lost your family cane. Police catalogue their evidence lockers. You knocked a gun out of that guy's hand – I saw it fly out the window from where I was parked up on the hill. They probably found the gun, the cane – everything… we'll just get it back from the cops. You're this kick-ass thief, right? It should be easy for you to get in and take the cane out of their evidence locker, if you're as good as you say."

"You think it'll be in their system? Dammit, I'm already sick to my stomach over this. I can't believe I lost it."

Rachel slugged him in the left arm. "Stop! Will you stop obsessing? Wait until I work my magic. Just relax." She came to a red light. "Look, if I don't see anything about it, we'll come back out here tomorrow and ask around to see if it went tumbling into the window of one of those roadside shops. I still say you need a doctor."

"I'll be _fine_." Conner rubbed his eyes with the backside of his paws. About an hour and a half later, the Accord pulled into a parking lot, across the street from her apartment. They got out of the car and, with her help, the boy made it up the steps and inside. He was quick to beeline for the bathroom and ran the hot water. It was going to be a long, sleepless night… he just knew it.

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A/N: OH NO! The cane is lost! ALREADY! _Okay, again, don't try that stuff at home. Yes, I made sure that my descriptions were accurate and can thusly be construed as an instruction guide on how to drift a car, including the typical and clutch-kick method. The only method I did NOT employ is the one that uses the emergency parking brake to give the rear end of your vehicle a power slide. Don't do it! Just like the sniper in Lament of Carmelita, I don't expect you guys to take Benzodiazepines to calm your nerves and take away the natural shakes one might have in their hands if holding a weighty object (weapon, in this case). Again, don't try it at home! Or at work. Or at school. Or at the park. xD You get the idea! Okay, that's ALL I'll say about that! lol._

_dun, dun, DUNN! So… my first major car chase scene! There IS a reason why that hovercraft was at the park, in town. It had nothing to do with them or the mafia but it DOES have an excuse for being on scene. I'll revisit the finer details later on to tie up that particular loose end. And, before you jump to any conclusions, the hovercraft's reason for being in that park has NOTHING to do with Sly or Carmelita. Nice try, but no dice! What Conner doesn't yet know… is that they drove through a military operation, following pirates from the Caspian, up the Volga River, and out through Astrakhan. _

_Those pirates got away, thanks to wrecking that hovercraft… let's just say one of those very thankful pirates will eventually be the fourth and final member of Conner's future team. There… it's okay, you can still act surprised when it happens much later… because by the time it does happen, you'll have forgotten and, so, it'll still be a surprise ;) _

_Unfortunately for our heroes, that part of town will be mostly closed off tomorrow, meaning their search for the cane will be compounded by red tape, in a matter of speaking. Will they FIND it? You'll just have to keep reading to find out! _

_I did a lot of research on the Shelby Cobra and Mercedes SL 65 AMG Black Series to write this. I had to hunt down pictures to see how much room was behind the bucket seats of the Mercedes and decided it was enough to make for an uncomfortable fit, wedging poor Conner back there after he swung about on that cane and smashed in through the back window. That was NOT intentional, of course. Not to mention, no one likes it when a 320 thousand dollar vehicle goes through a double re-enforced concrete wall at about 165 miles an hour. You may have noticed that rebar, the steel re-enforcement inside the concrete wall, was jutting in through the roof of the vehicle… so yeah, it was more than halfway buried in the wall. _

_Also, did anyone figure out why the car crashed? It happened because of Conner's ability to interfere with the electronics, of course. One of my readers coined the name for the 'ability' and I liked the term so much I had to use it. Technokinetic. I adore that term. It's perfect and describes his ability quite well, if you ask me. _

_Okay, well… I've got to go and write chapter six, so everyone can find out what sort of evil is afoot. Seriously, a few things will happen in the next chapter that are going to TOTALLY SUCK for our heroes. I intended to END the chapter with that crap because I thought it would make a great cliffhanger. However, losing the cane is pretty good, too! So… I'll BEGIN the next chapter with this wonderful new dilemma. Let's just say that Rachel will better identify with Conner very soon. The poor girl. Ah well. _

_At least NOW we know who the team's future driver will be! That coyote was pretty good behind the wheel, huh? He managed to keep them alive and was able to keep control of a fast car, drifting on bricks. I think he proved himself an able future team driver. Now we just need the strong man… Obvious, after what I told you a moment ago, you now know that the strong man is a pirate who is currently located in Astrakhan, Russia. No, he's not Russian; I've not decided on a species or nationality for the fourth guy, yet. One thing is for sure: I'm going to make sure that he's tough and awesome. Hmm, maybe I should make them a girl? :D_

_See you soon! Yes, soon. Chapter 6 is more than halfway finished. I wrote six thousand words last night for it just because I had a good idea while washing my hair. Funny how that works, huh? I'm all like, "Calgon, take me away… ooo, wait up Calgon; I had an idea! It could very well be a good idea… How did I figure out a sudden good idea? I'm willing to bet you… it's an ancient Chinese secret!" xD_

_-Kit_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: _Heed my warning, people… there is a little bit of gore in this chapter, so if you're squeamish, you've been warned. Our heroes are about to LEARN that they need one another and it won't happen in the most agreeable way. They learn through loss, fear and near death experiences… Conner and Rachel are the beginnings of the new generation of 'Cooper Gang.' Both have a lot to learn and this will be a difficult chapter for the young duet… it's growing obvious that they need more help… With that said, I'll introduce contenders for the new team. We'll need a driver for escape logistics, we'll need muscle and we'll need some personality to spice things up!_

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Chapter -6-

_Two days later…_

**The motel clerk smiled at Rachel**, taking back the keycard to the room. In his best attempt at English, he told her, "I am hoping that your stay was acceptable."

"It was fine, thank you. Proshaitye." The Russian word, a formal term for 'good bye' sounded as permanent as it was intended. He used the term with a sad sort of tone. Rachel eyed him for a moment then shook her head, prompting the young male clerk to frown. He then added, "Your boyfriend is a lucky man, miss."

"Yeah, thanks; Das Vadanya and all that jazz." Rachel walked out of the small office, crossed the lot and shook her head again. She opened the driver door of her Accord and sank into the seat with a sigh. "That guy was pretty damn annoying. Apparently, you're not the _only_ guy who's never seen a girl naked in real life."

"Oh geeze, will you stop? Doesn't the Internet account for _anything_ anymore?" His joke died from the silence. Conner looked out the passenger window, arms folded across his chest. "Thanks for helping me. You didn't have to; I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry you didn't find your cane." She started the car and pulled out of the lot. "I had nothing better to do then to stay in Astrakhan for two days, looking for your family heirloom. I'm still a little curious about the police report on that Mercedes. How does a car just… electronically short out while running at that speed? I mean, the alternator is supposed to keep the current going but… what kind of car _stalls_ at a high speed like that? I thought the engine may have seized from a bullet going through it but… It was strange – they didn't find a bullet in the engine. They said it was an electrical malfunction."

"Yeah, strange," said Cooper, shaking his head slowly. "I'm starting to get used to it, though. I've got weird luck. On occasion, I have to change my watch battery because they stop working every so often for absolutely no reason. I'm just no good around electronics – that's why I use a solid-state hard drive with my laptop. When it just crashes at random, I know I won't lose my stuff."

"It's a coincidence," she replied. "It'll be good to get back in my _own_ bed, tonight. I'll admit, though… I could easily get used to having someone clean up and make the bed every morning." The Accord moved into traffic, heading north along the Volga River. "Strange, though, that they found that driver's gun but nothing else. That just means someone who saw a shiny gold-colored pole on the road decided to stop and pick up your cane. I'll keep an eye on Ebay and similar sites."

"Yeah, I appreciate it." Conner kept his eyes focused on the landscape beyond the window, horribly disappointed in himself. "Again, I appreciate your help." The raccoon drew quiet for the next hour, until they arrived at her apartment. He gathered their clothing bags and closed the back door while she crossed the parking lot and went inside the lobby.

Standing next to the Accord, he waved his paw at her. "Hey! You've got the remote control key – open the trunk so I can get our laptops!" She didn't hear him and continued into the building. Conner shook his head with a groan of frustration then reached for the front passenger door so he could find the manual trunk button. The car was locked. "Are you _kidding_?" He grumbled and carried the clothing bags across the apartment parking lot and in through the lobby doors. Up ahead, Rachel was holding the elevator door for him. He picked up his pace and hurried into the elevator, telling her, "You locked the laptop bags in the trunk."

"Oh…" She frowned and shrugged. "Okay, sorry. I'm in a hurry – I need to pee so… I'll get them in a minute." The elevator doors shut and it carried them up several floors. The doors opened with a soft ding and they trudged down the hallway with their belongings.

"Wait, hold up," said Conner, brushing her back with a paw. "What is _that_?" he asked, pointing to a small brown smudge on the doorknob. He sniffed at the air then winced at an unfamiliar foul stench. His eyes lowered then he un-shouldered the bags. The young teen knelt slowly with a wince from his injuries. "There's also a faint brown stain on the carpet but it looks like the whole strip has been recently shampooed."

Rachel put her key into the door, unlocked the knob then the deadbolt and opened it. Both of them gasped, seeing a slumped gray-furred body on the floor. She stepped in first and Conner followed, shoving the clothing bags aside and shutting the door. No one spoke. She used the tip of her shoe to nudge the body. It didn't move. Rachel bit her lower lip then, with the side of her foot, she rolled the person onto their back. A female raccoon of similar age and build lay in a puddle of dried blood. She wasn't breathing.

"Holy…" Her lower jaw quivered. She backed away slowly, immediately hyperventilating. "H-holy sh-sh… Holy _shit_," she muttered, repeating the phrase six more times. "I... I mean... it's… that's… a bod… It's a… she's _dead_. Oh my _God_, sh… she…"

Conner placed his paws on her shoulders, guiding her back several steps. He approached the corpse and knelt down beside it. "She looks a lot like you," he mused with a shake of his head. "I don't know what to tell you." He glanced back over his shoulder at Rachel, watching her fumble with her cell phone. "Whoa, wait! Don't call the police, Rachel! First of all, their investigation will put you behind bars when they find out who you are. Second of all, it will tell the killer that they _missed_."

"Missed _what_? What the hell are you talking about?" She spit out, only to begin hyperventilating again.

"Don't you see what this is?" asked Conner, standing up and reaching for his sore right shoulder. "Look, we were _lucky_ to have stayed in Astrakhan for two days. I think the mafia went through with their hit and this girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was obviously _not _shot inside of your apartment because you saw the blood on the _outside_ handle _and_ the hall was freshly shampooed. They probably shot her, forced her up here into the apartment and left her body here."

"What the hell would they leave the body _here_ for? I mean who the hell brings their victim back to their r-residence? Don't they throw'em in the river or burry them? F-… fuh…" She coughed then abruptly sneezed, trying to cuss again, stammering through the curse word. "Who is… who _was_ she?"

Conner knelt down again, slowly easing to his sore knees. He fished through the dead raccoon's pockets until he found a driver's license and a credit card. "Rachel Razin." He paused to look over the license then announced, "She's eighteen. Jesus, Mary and Joseph – she's about your age and has your first name."

"It's not my _real_ first name. That's why I don't _use_ my birth name. So people can't find me. Oh God, oh _God_, I have a dead girl in my apartment…" She pushed her bangs up with a trembling right paw. "I can't think."

Conner stood up slowly, dropping the credit cards and license by the dead girl. He walked around the body and approached Rachel, guiding her away from the foyer. "Go use the bathroom and wash your face. Take a moment to cry if you need and take a few deep breaths. We have two options… either we move your gear out… or we move the body. I'm in favor of moving your gear. If the killer thinks he's fulfilled his contractual obligation, it would be _stupid_ to stay here because whoever is paying him will come by to make sure the job was done right. We need to relocate you as fast as we can. Then, we need to have you lay low so you can start over, fresh."

"My stuff!" She turned about and rushed into the den next to the master bedroom. A moment later, she called out to Conner. "Nothing is out of place, here. We need to get this crap out to the car. I'll start breaking everything down and… and… then we can make two trips. I'll get the most important stuff into the car now and we'll make another trip for whatever is left and…"

Conner walked down the hall and put a paw on her shoulder. "Go pee, wash your face and take a few deep breaths. Remember, you had to use the bathroom? Just go and take a breather."

"There's… a dead girl on my living room _floor_," she said, her breathing jagged and slow. She walked back into her computer room and booted up a large server box. Rachel leaned over a keyboard and began typing. "They might have put a virus on my drives. I need to format _everything_ and start fresh. I'll just use the encrypted compressed data packets on one of my off-location servers. I back up my personal files every so often." She entered the command then walked away from the keyboard with her paws balled into fists, her ears laid flat in anger. "Someone _has_ to pay for this. For her. For …all this mess!" She stormed by Conner and headed to the bathroom.

He ran his left paw back through his hair and sighed. "This… this is heavy – this is some heavy crap." Conner began doing the mental math. Had he not gotten involved in all of this… if he never came to Russia and bumped into Rachel at the computer store… _she_ would have been the body on the apartment floor. Slowly he re-approached the dead girl, breathing through his mouth to tolerate the smell. He knelt down again, nice and slow, and took her dead muzzle into his paw, turning her head up to look her over. Decomposition had already set in, causing her eyes to look disgusting.

"So this is death," he whispered, trying to overcome his inner fears. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, lady. Rachel Razin… I'm…" He froze. His ear flickered and he lowered his paw to her neck, feeling a very faint pulse. However, the rhythmic pulsation wasn't coming from her throat. His paw moved lower, over her sternum then over her heart. The pulsing grew stronger. He swept his paw from left to right, searching for whatever caused the strange disturbance. "What the hell… you _are_ dead, right?"

His paw stopped just beneath her smallish breast, where her appendix was located. He could feel the mechanical rhythmic ticking just beneath his fingertips. "That's no pacemaker – she's too young to need one, anyhow." He pressed gently against her torso. "That doesn't even make _sense_." He stood up again then walked over to the bathroom door. "Rachel, do you have some sort of, like… a stethoscope or something similar? Or maybe a special microphone that we can use as a stethoscope?"

Rachel's voice was muffled through the door. "What for?" she asked in a sharply demanding tone. "You're the thief! Aren't you supposed to have one so you can crack a safe or something?"

"No, I don't own anything like that," he said, adding, "I hear a pulse in the dead girl. It's coming from her abdomen. I'm no doctor – she might be alive, but I'm pretty sure she's not… I just want to make sure."

"She's either dead or she's not, Conner! There's either a pulse or nothing at all."

He lifted his paws to accent himself before raising his voice, only to wince from his injuries. "Dammit… her eyes are all screwed up and sunken in! She's dead, but she's got something in her that sounds like a heart beat. It's a strong pulse and I need to know what the hell is going on."

"I have a headset in my bedroom. It looks like night vision goggles. Go and get it." She abruptly added, "Be careful with it! It's expensive and I don't have the money to replace it!"

"Okay, okay!" he walked away from the bathroom door and stepped into her bedroom. Conner paused to look around at the posters on her walls and the various forms of trinkets that defined her personality in a way that words could never do. He looked around and, after a few moments, he found a set of goggles in the top drawer of her dresser. It was nestled into a pile of panties, bringing about a very slight blush to the boy's cheeks. Conner lifted it from the drawer and placed it on his head then activated the battery pack using a very obvious red switch on the side.

He returned to the bathroom door and asked, "Are you okay in there? By the way, I've got the goggles. Now what?"

"There's a dial on the left side, opposite of the power switch. Put the goggles on your head, turn them on and flip through the dial. Go and look at the girl. You'll see what I mean, just go and do it… And, yes, I'm _fine_. Be out in a second… I just… need to be alone for a little bit, okay?"

Cooper frowned. "Sure, no problem. Take your time, okay Rachel? I'll let you know if I find anything." He ambled back through the hallway, careful not to walk into the wall, disoriented by the bright green flared lens, designed for a darker setting. He felt about for the dial on the side of the unit and began flipping through the settings.

The image changed to thermal. The body was blue, long dead with no trace of heat. He switched to the next setting, displaying a blurry black and white world. He looked up then abruptly down at the body. The tissue was now transparent and odd looking. He lifted a paw and suddenly realized he was looking through his fingers, able to see his bones. "Oh, wow… X-ray vision?"

He glanced down at his lower torso then said, "I _knew_ it was a myth. You can't see people's undergarment… you see under their _skin_." He eased to his knees, wincing from discomfort. Conner lifted the dead girl's shirt carefully, bunching it over her bra. There was another shirt beneath the sweater, which he also lifted. A square black object was wedged beneath her lower right rib.

Conner lifted the goggles, resting them on his forehead. He winced, seeing a gunshot wound at the center of her gut. The light gray fur around the wound was caked with black residue and everything south of her naval was matted with dried blood. Again, he winced. He licked his lips apprehensively and thought, '_Good lord, you took a gunshot at pointblank range, huh? These guys don't mess around… they like to get up close and personal._' He lowered the goggles back over his eyes trying to study the strange black box that had been apparently inserted through the fatal wound in her belly. Again, he placed his paw over her lower torso, just to the right of the wound.

The soft fur was strangely alien to him, knowing she was dead. He felt the rhythmic pulsing again then removed the goggles and leaned down close, placing an ear against the torso.

Rachel's voice was damning. "What are you doing, you _sicko_? Get off of her; you won't hear _anything_; she's dead you asshole." He never even heard her sneak up on him.

"No, wait…" Conner trailed off, listening to the sound. "It's a perfect rhythm. Using your goggles, I saw a black square object beneath her ribs."

"Well, if _you're_ so damn comfortable with her dead body, why not stick your paw in there and pull it out. Get some rubber gloves – they're in the kitchen. Else, you can help me get my stuff out to the car."

Conner stood up and shook his head. "I'm _not_ sticking my fingers into a dead person's body. I'm _not_ comfortable with that. Suppose it's something meant for her heart that was dislodged when she was shot? Whatever it is, I don't want to know. It's small, so it's probably not important."

"That doesn't mean anything," replied Rachel in a sour voice. "It's going to take another three to five minutes to finish formatting those hard drives. I need to get out of this apartment and get some fresh air. Come with me. They might have bugged the apartment, now that I'm thinking about it… so I'd rather talk in the car."

"That would suck," said Conner with a frown. "They'd know you're alive if they bugged the place. I doubt they did, though… they wouldn't want anything for cops to trace back to the killer."

"I suppose you're right," she said. "Still, I'd feel more comfortable. Let's go out there and talk about our options." She opened the door and Conner followed, putting the goggles under his arm. They stepped into the elevator and looked away from one another all the way down to the first floor. They crossed the lobby and walked outside to the parking lot. She fished out her keys and unlocked the car. Rachel got behind the wheel and Conner dropped down into the passenger seat, shutting the door.

Rachel buried her face into her palms. "This is pretty awkward. I'm glad you're staying calm. I've never seen a dead person before."

"This is my second one," said Conner, recalling the driver from the Mercedes, right after the crash. "Two dead people in three days… This is not turning out the way I'd planned it in my head. I lost the cane and now people are dropping like flies around me… I'm only fourteen!" He balled his paws into fists then opened them, only to close his fingers into fists again. "I'm _scared_ out of my _wits_, here. But I know I've got to find my parents. Something tells me that they might be in trouble and… I have to find them."

Her voice changed to something a bit more on the tender side. "I know, I understand. I'd do anything to go back in time and save daddy. You're making sure your parents are safe… I totally respect that."

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to them." A loud thunderous noise rocked the immediate area. They looked at one another in confusion then looked towards the apartment complex. A large ball of fire landed in the parking lot, causing both of them to jump, startled. Conner's eyes widened and he shouted, "That's a _sofa_!" He craned his neck, looking up along the side of the building. Flames flickered in the windows of the third, fourth and fifth floor, engulfing the west wall.

Rachel opened the door and stood up, looking at the inferno. "No!" She lifted her right fist and brought it down on the roof of the car, leaving a dent. "No! No! _NO!_" Another explosion detonated somewhere around the third or fourth floor, blasting the wall apart. Chunks of concrete and furniture discharged in every direction, sending fiery debris raining down all around them. She screamed at the top of her lungs, not from fear but from anger and out of mourning. All of her belongings were now gone.

"Get in the car, Rachel!" He reached across the center console and grabbed at her belt. "Get in! Before you get hurt, get in! Get us out of here!" To punctuate his warning and worry, a large indiscernible object landed on a compact car, twenty-five feet away. It crushed the vehicle, causing the front and rear bumper to reach into the air. At the top of his lungs, Conner shouted, "Get us out of here!"

Without a word, Rachel sank into the driver seat and gunned the engine. She put it into reverse and floored the accelerator, causing her door to swing wide open. She cut the wheel, yanked the shifter down into 'drive' then floored the gas pedal. The four-cylinder engine whined and the car lurched forward. Her door slammed shut and the Accord burst from the lot, exceeding thirty-five miles an hour. Behind them, a cacophony of horns trumpeted in choir from her dangerous entry onto the motorway. She swerved the wheel, curving hard so as not to careen into a vehicle in the far left lane.

"…Nice driving," said Cooper, trying to make light of the situation. "Not as good as Surge, but much better than anything I could have done."

"You're not even _old_ enough to drive, Conner!" She floored the accelerator and began passing other cars in the lanes. "We need to get as far away from this place as we can! I can't believe that son of a bitch tried to have me _killed_! We're going back to Astrakhan and find him! I'll walk right into his house and kick his ass!"

"Whoa! _Hold up_," he said, raising his voice to compete with her shouting. "He thinks you're _dead_, so now you take your time to save up your money and get your stuff back together! Then you come up with a _plan_, so stop trying to get yourself killed! First thing's first… we find my parents. Then, my mother can arrest that guy for trying to kill you. We don't have to tell her _why_… we'll just tell her that you were at the wrong place at the wrong time and, corrupted with power and his ties to the mafia, he tried to rub you out… and she'll put him away for life and expose his mafia ties… let's just _find my parents_, okay?"

"To hell with you," she muttered, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it. "I want that guy to die for killing that other girl. He should be strung up by his balls and…"

"Stop!" Conner placed his left paw on her right knee. "Please… you're driving. Don't get us both killed. There's time for anger… right now, it's time to stay alive and figure things out. Okay?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, she leaned forward and gazed into the rearview mirror. Fire licked up the side of the apartment complex as it shrank into the distance. Rachel drew her right paw back and pounded her fist on the steering wheel. Tears ran down her face, matting her facial fur. Finally, in a soft and humble voice, she murmured, "I'm scared, too."

"There's no evidence of your hacking thing," said Conner. "It was formatted and then blown up. You're clear to start over with no past criminal history. And no one can track your external servers because they're disguised as servers at local libraries and universities." He patted her knee and offered a confident nod. "If we find my parents, she can help you and no one will ever know the law wants you because 'Rachel the Hacker' is now dead. My mother'll see you as an innocent who is in danger from some jerk-wad, living down in Astrakhan. What did you learn about that photo of mom? Was the information lost?"

"No," she mumbled, using her left paw to wipe her eyes and face. "That's been transferred to my laptop. I can't believe I have to start over. I… this is…" She struggled for words.

"We both lost the most valuable things we had. But we're both alive, we're both in the clear and now no one is chasing after us. Look, I'll placate you a little bit, Rachel."

"Yeah?" She rubbed her left sleeve against her snout.

He shifted his weight and turned towards her. "I'll go back to Astrakhan and we'll bug this guy's place, okay? In and out, I won't get caught… then we can keep tabs on him while we go and look for my parents. While we're in the area, we'll take one more little look around town to see if we can find any information about my cane. We'll spend an evening in the area then head to wherever the bank is that took my mother's photograph from their ATM camera. Where was it, anyhow?"

"Far north," she said. "Saint Petersburg. It's not a short drive, so I hope you have money for gas. Astrakhan is in the wrong direction."

"Leave everything to me," he replied. "I promise you'll get your vengeance, okay? You'll replace all your stuff with better stuff you have my word. I just need your help, Rachel. Believe me, okay? I just need your trust… a little faith, you know? I'll even make you a deal."

"Like what," she mumbled.

Conner sat up, trying to smile despite the pain in his hip and most of his joints. "My father was born into money if you know what I mean… I'll _personally_ replace everything you lost if you can help me find my family. I'm not just saying that, either."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to say all these nice things, dammit. I'll help you – I have nothing else left. I never expected you to help me replace the computer gear my father built; it was the last thought on my mind. I'm scared for my _life_. I'm angry that everything I loved was taken from me. I know you're not rich. I can tell by the way you talk, act and dress that you're not high society…" Rachel gritted her teeth, uttering another vituperative string of curse words beneath her breath. A snarl curled her lip up and she sneered. "But that silly bastard in Astrakhan has _plenty_ of money."

"Slow up," said Conner. He took the goggles that were sitting in his lap and placed them carefully on the floor behind her seat. "Have faith in me, will ya'? I _need_ you. And for you to be able to help me, I _need_ for you to have your computers back. I'll help _you_ replace your crucial gear if you promise to help _me_, okay?" He held his paw out to her. "We need to work as a team to stay alive. Without one another, we'd both be dead right now."

"How do you figure?" she exclaimed, eyeing his offered paw.

"If you weren't with me at the motel in Astrakhan for two days, you'd be dead," he said. "Conversely, if you didn't talk me into going down to your car to talk… I'd have stayed up there… and I would be dead."

"Yeah," she said softly. She grew silent, eyed his paw for a moment then took his hand and, with her other, she eased off to the side of the road and stopped. She reached for him and the two hugged in silence. She whispered, "Okay, we're a team. We've both lost everything and, if we work together like we did when you broke into that guy's house… we can get it all back. We'll find your family and your cane… I'll change my name again, disappear from my enemies and reinvent myself then get it all back. I just…"

"Thanks for trusting in me," Conner replied. "I won't let you down. We'll make a good team." They relinquished the hug and he sat up with a soft smile. "To get started, we'll need some gear and some clothes… Both of us are left with only the shirts on our backs, in a matter of speaking."

She nodded slowly. "…Yeah. And our laptops in the trunk." She cleared her throat and asked, "How do we come up with the funds?"

"I'll call Carmen and have her wire me some money." Conner leaned back in his seat and sighed. "I can't tell her that I lost the cane… I want to find it myself; no one has to know I was a dumbass with it… I don't want to prove them right."

"Who is Carmen?"

Cooper smiled somewhat. "My sister. She's just a little older than you – very smooth and graceful. Of mom and dad's best traits: I got all the worst ones, heh." He sifted his left paw through his hair and glanced out the passenger-side window. "She got all the good traits. Anyhow, she'll send me anything I need… money isn't an issue. Like I said, we were born into a bit of money."

"Enough with the money bit." Rachel shook her head and, again, rolled her eyes. "If she can send us enough to get a few things, clothes, gas and food… we'll be all right. Maybe, uhm… a few _hundred_ Euros?" She winced in anticipation of his reply.

"You'll see," he chuckled softly. "Money is the last concern on my mind, seriously. You know the area, Rachel… get us to a place that does Money Gram or a Western Union or something where we can do wired money transfers."

"Yeah." Her eyes lowered somewhat then lifted back to the road. She slumped back into the chair, ready for disappointment from her lack in expectations. "I know of a place. Call your sister."

* * *

**Javari Ahma sat up in her hospital bed.** She brought her clawed paws to either side of her face and rubbed firmly then glanced about. There was a retractable mirror on a multi-purpose swing-arm as part of the hospital bed and she reached for it. The wolverine gazed at her reflection then pushed the reflective panel away.

She paused, recalling the last thing to happen before blacking out. Javari glanced down at her hospital gurney, allowing the events to play out in her head. She remembered that the Russian hovercraft followed her group across the waters of the Caspian Sea. The pirate group she worked with was gunned down for the most part, leaving only a few to escape on land – she couldn't remember all the details. They were wrong to think that they could escape. The hovercraft followed them out of the water and through some Russian town.

It was two lads in a speedy blue classic muscle car that came to her rescue. She glanced over to the left and saw one of her mates in an adjacent bed. Javari sat up more and looked around. From what she could see, the hospital wasn't a military sickbay or anything similar. Javari Ahma, twenty years of age, slid out of her bed and approached the male Labrador, in the next bed over.

He looked to be in poor shape. His black-furred face had missing patches of fur around his lips and on the left side of his neck. He had an IV line running into his right arm and upon closer inspection, she could tell that he was missing one of his teeth from the disfigured lay of his upper lip.

"Oye," she whispered, gently nudging his bed. "Get up, Senor Charles." The man didn't move. She narrowed her eyes at him and kicked his bed. "Chuck." No response. "What did you tell them about us? That explosion threw the van straight into the air then some cars zipped by, opening fire with handguns or something. I think the police brought us here under the assumption that we were bystanders of the unrelated car chase incident."

The Labrador opened one eye. He gazed up at her and sighed softly through his nose. After a moment he spoke, with a deep gruff tone. "I've not long to live." He lowered his gaze then closed his eye. "I'm in bad shape. I'm an old man – see the gray around my muzzle? You… you're a young girl, Javari. Do yourself a favor and get away from the pirating business. Stealing from rich merchants is one thing but it's a different world now and running the trade routes… it's not as profitable anymore."

"You'll be fine," she said with some measure of relief.

"No," he quickly replied. "I've had two strokes in the last four years. I had a heart attack in March. I suffer from sleep apnea. I've grown weak in my old age. Y'know how I have a bad hip, 'luv? I broke it in the fall. You… well, I was worried about you until now. It looks like you made a complete recovery." Despite his injuries, he was still a tough old man.

"What're you talking about?" Javari placed a paw on his forehead, scratching between his ears. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You were out for two straight days," he told her. "What happened to the hovercraft? I thought for sure it had us cornered and I never saw exactly what happened that let us get away."

Javari Ahma stood over his bed, nearly six feet tall. Her muscular shoulders and large paws made her appear athletic. "Two boys in a small muscle car came by and tore her at the seams. She listed hard then crashed – glorious sight. I'll have to find those boys and show them proper gratitude. I saw it all right before I blacked out. "

"You're a good pirate and a hard worker," said the canine. "It was a pleasure working with you but I think we should head in separate directions. I don't have long left to live, especially with this broken hip… A nurse, who speaks neither Italian nor English, made an attempt to tell me that I would need a full hip replacement. I tried to tell her I don't have health insurance. The translator was too nervous to tell them that… I guess they'll _bill_ me for my stay, hmm?"

"What should I do?" she asked.

"Start your life over. Do what you're good at… fight people and plunder the wealthy… just stay smart about it. Are you feeling well enough to leave the hospital? Have you heard anything from the twins?"

"I'm fine, not a scratch on me. I just woke up; I don't even know if they're alive."

The Labrador chuckled softly. "Tough girl. You landed square on your head. I thought for sure you'd fractured your skull. Lucky you. You're resilient. I want you to get out of here, discretely. We never met, alright?"

"What about Donald and Kaza? There were six of us scattered to the winds. Are we the _only_ ones in a hospital?"

The canine opened his eyes and gazed up at her. "Donald is dead and your boyfriend… well… His fate was far less horrific than that of our captain. I'll miss Donald; he was a good man. Again, I'm sorry about Kaza, hon." He cleared his throat then asked, "Do you have any immediate plans?"

"I'll search for the twins. I want to see if I can't find the boys who crippled that hovercraft gunship. Don't apologize about Kaza. The sunnovabitch used to hit me. I only stayed with him because it was better than the alternative – I wasn't able to tell anyone until now."

"Well then…" The Labrador trailed off, sighing through his nose again. "I suppose he got what he deserved in the end. He's dead… quick and simple death, too. It's probably the best way to go. Shot by one of the gunship's howitzers. I'm not sure he even lived long enough to see us make it ashore. It's a little blurry but I think he was gunned down before we entered the Volga River. I know he was driving at one point, then he slumped and one of the twins grabbed for the wheel. She's a better driver than Kaza was, and it's a good thing she took over or we wouldn't have survived. I'm surprised, though… I've seen you manhandle people with ease. You're a strong girl. Why let him walk all over you?"

Javari turned away from him for a moment. "Call it… _emotional_ abuse. I don't know why I took his crap. My patience was growing thinner every day. One thing is for sure… I won't allow anyone to lay a hand on me _ever_ again. Kaza wasn't the only one to take a bullet. I never told anyone about my situation."

"What's that?"

"_I_ was shot, too." She turned back to the older canine and smiled somewhat. "Not by the Russians, though. It was a few years ago… See, I was hit with a small caliber round… a twenty-two shell struck me in the head. The bullet is actually _still_ _there_."

"I… didn't know that. Why tell me?" he asked.

"I don't feel physical pain the same way. Maybe that's why Kaza's physical onslaught didn't bother me. It was the emotional crap he put me through that _really_ hurt. I know I'm not the most attractive girl. I have a bear-like face… I'm not sleek and slender. I'm mostly muscle, I'm not big breasted because I'm too athletic."

"Javari, hon, you're a solid muscle and very tone. If I were your age, I would have flirted with you all the time. Don't let Kaza's crap keep you down. He's dead and you're alive. Karma's something else, huh?"

"Yeah," she said softly. Ahma pushed her paws into her pockets. "I guess this is goodbye, old man. Ciao, Charles Josef. I hope to see you again."

"You won't," he told her, closing his eyes again. "I won't live to see the hip replacement. I'm an old man. I've held on long enough. I'm tired, sweetheart. I get to die a free man in a clean bed with clean sheets. I'm not at sea and I'll get a proper burial. When the autopsy report finds my identification, the state will have a field day. I've been a wanted fugitive since before John F. Kennedy was assassinated. That's a long time, sweet lips. Now, get the hell out of this hospital and don't look back. Find the twins and tell them that all the males are dead; this team is defunct. I got to see you get away scot-free. I'll die a happy man, now."

"You're a sweetheart," she murmured. "Watch over me from the other side, will you? Help me out if I need it."

"I'll be there for ya," he replied then reached out and gave her a gentle swat on her rump. "Get out that door and don't look back. If it fancies you, then go out and find whoever was in that muscle car and see if they need your help. Remember, don't take any crap from anyone. Especially not people like Kaza. Man, if I'd only known he was treating you poorly I would have whipped the living tar out of him."

"It's okay," she said. She leaned down and kissed the side of his face then walked to the door. Javari Ahma paused and glanced back at the old man then took his advice and walked out of the room with her chin held high. "I'll find the twins. They're resilient and quick to adapt. They speak most every European language fluently, have a unique skill set and… they're cute girls. Not to mention tough as nails. I don't foresee them getting into any trouble because they're street smart. If anything, they've fallen back and are waiting to see one of us walk out of this hospital. Ciao, Charles Josef." She nodded respectively, grabbed her clothes from a sealed bag sitting on a counter and left the room.

* * *

**Keri Tiikeri sat up with a start**. She picked up an empty pizza box and tossed it like a Frisbee so that it struck her sleeping sister, Debbie Jean Tiikeri. The pink-nosed Keri lifted a paw to her muzzle and shouted, "DJ! I just saw Javari leaving the hospital! She looks okay! We should go and get her!" The tigress slid out of her hotel chair by the window and grabbed a jacket. "C'mon!"

Debbie Jean, Keri's twin sister, sat up in bed with a soft groan. "Keri, I was on watch last night – let me sleep." She flopped back down in the bed and sighed softly. "Go out and get some supplies – I don't want you two coming back here and waking me up right away with your girly banter."

"You can be such a Queen sometimes. Fine," said Keri, heading for the door. "Whatever. Sit here if you want. I'm excited – I thought she was going to die from head trauma. I'm glad she's alive!"

"Okay, okay… meet back here in like… two or three hours." DJ rolled over, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

Keri rushed down the hotel hall, passed the elevator and shoved the door open to the stairway. She edged her rump up onto the metallic handrail and curled her lengthy orange and black striped tail around her hip. Her feet lifted from the floor and she began to slide down the railing. The pole curved gently around to the side then straightened out again in a deep slope.

The tigress pushed her elbows against the wall, shoving away from it. She dropped to the ground floor and broke into a sprit, beneath the stairway. Lifting her forearm up at chest height and her other paw outwards, she pressed against a collapsible metal bar on the emergency exit door at the back of the stairwell. Shoving the door open, Keri rushed through an alley and out to the street, not far from Javari.

The wolverine immediate spotted and recognized one of the Tiikeri sisters, squinting to look at the woman's nose. The full pink snout identified Keri in contrast to the half-black and half-pink nose of Deborah Jean. Still a little tipsy, Javari tilted her head and in a cautious voice, asked, "Keri?"

"Java!" The nickname caused the wolverine to smile, followed by the tiger, whose muzzle broadened into a brilliant grin. Both girls quickly embraced in a boisterous hug. Keri's excited voice was punctuated with a thick warm fog from the chilly air. "Javari, you're okay! You look great!"

"Everything happened so quickly!" The wolverine broke the embrace then took a long, slow breath and, in a somber voice, said, "C.J. won't be joining us."

Keri quirked her left eyebrow, the soft orange veneer of facial fur furrowed above her brow, bunching up across her forehead. "What do you mean? I saw him _carry _you out of the wreckage. He's an old man, but I saw him lift you up and carry you as though you weighed nothing. So don't even tell me he's too injured to have made it."

"He's lying in the hospital right now, alive," said Javari, her eyes lowering to the ground. "But he said he doesn't have long and that he can feel his body failing. We should go – where is your sister?"

"We can't go forward without C.J.; we've lost all the males?" The tigress' eyes dropped, lifted then shifted downward again.

Javari Ahma drew in a slow breath, lifted her gaze then said, "Chuck told me to move on without him. He also said it's over. All of it. We managed to walk away with our hides intact and we should just call it an omen of some sort. He feels it was meant to be. He wants us to get ourselves together and walk away. He was…" she paused and frowned. "Did you say he _carried me_ out of the wreckage?"

"The van's waterproof hull hit something coming into the Volga River," said Tiikeri, coughing into her paw. She reached for Javari's arm and nodded to the west. "You should follow me," she mused, returning to the story. "We were starting to take on water but it was a slow leak. We found a public boat ramp and made a break for it. Going from water to the asphalt at such a speed ripped into the hull even more. Your boyfriend was at the wheel of the van, bleeding profusely. I took over at the wheel. He used the emergency ejector, causing the marine shell to drop away from the bottom of the van. The wheels shifted until they lined up with the axel and we drove off of the damaged shell, leaving it right on the boat ramp. The hovercraft fired on us and he swerved and, to our surprise, the damn Russian captain proved tenacious. He drove that damn hovercraft right up the boat ramp, over the jettisoned hull and followed us into the street. We were faster, but they were armed to the teeth. After the third shot, the van hit a crater hole and we hit it. One of our tires blew out and we cut through the waterfront park.

"The hovercraft followed us through the park and into the market area. They fired again and we flipped over, skidding on the roof straight into a local store, through the wall and stopped in an alley with the front of the van facing the street. The hovercraft moved into a semi-flanking position, forty-five degrees to our starboard. Just then, a blue car flew by, grazing the side of the Russian ship, followed by a silver car. They disappeared and the hovercraft listed wildly then drifted into the shop that we went through a moment earlier. First they fired on the departing cars then they fired on us. The building collapsed on the van and everything went black."

Keri paused from recanting the story and moved into an alley then she reached into her pocket and withdrew Russian currency, counting it. After a moment, she put it back into her pocket and continued with the story. "I woke up face to face with Kaza but he was dead from a gunshot wound. Donald was dying in my sister's lap. He told her something then closed his eyes. I reached across and unbuckled DJ's seatbelt and we crawled out through the side door just in time to see C.J. carrying you up the alley. He told us to fall back and wait while he took you to the hospital. So, we waited for two days in a hotel across the street. I'm sorry about Kaza."

Javari shook her head slowly then shrugged. "I never told anyone because I was just the girlfriend of your invaluable teammate but Kaza…" She trailed off and shrugged. After a moment, she shook her head and whispered, "Abusive – he was abusive as hell. I had nowhere else to go so I fell into this lifestyle to placate him. Don't take this the wrong way but when I look back on everything… Well… it's not for me. I don't remember anything after the blue muscle car zipping by and I want to find the driver and see if there's any way to thank them… then I'm walking away from pirating. I'm done. I'm going to move on and lay low – maybe get a nice guy and raise a kid or something."

The tigress licked her lips apprehensively then pulled the money back out of her pocket. She counted it a second time, withdrew a quarter of the total amount, replaced the larger bulk of billfolds into her pocket and separated the remaining fourth into eighths. She stopped, not far from the mouth of the alley and faced Javari. "Take this portion and get what you need – clothes, food and personal supplies." She eased the other small wad of bills into Javari Ahma's other paw and told her, "Once you feel safely out of danger, use this money to start your life over. It's a quarter of the score – there are four of us left."

"Chuck said he's not going to make it. Saving a quarter for him is admirable but I saw his eyes and I believe he knows his body is failing. He said not to come for him – to split up." The wolverine tilted her head and shrugged. "I know you won't part with your sister but you know what I mean – everyone goes separate ways, for the most part. Thank you," she added at the end, pocketing both small wads of money. "I'm going after the blue car that helped us. I don't know where to start but it's something I want to do so… that's my next move. Maybe we can all come together and help them somehow – you know, return the favor. That's where you and your sister would come in handy, you guys were always the muscle and escape logistics of the team. Those boys couldn't have done a damn thing without the both of you."

Tiikeri nodded solemnly and the two quickly embraced again. "I'll tell DJ you said goodbye. Stay safe. Stay smart and keep your head down with your ear to the ground. …I'm sorry Kaza treated you so badly. I never even knew…" She trailed off, stepping back from the friendly hug.

"It's okay," said Javari. "Donald, Chuck, you and your sister… you were the best friends I've ever had; ever known. I was honored to work with all of you. If it wasn't for Kaza, I wouldn't have met any of you so I'm thankful to have dated him in _that _respect. Besides, karma took care of that man. It's over – another chapter of my life, closed for good. I'm not concerned and I have no plans for looking back." She opened her arms to the female tiger and embraced her. After a moment she relinquished the gentle hug and they nodded to one another. From there, Javari walked back down the alley and turned right, heading west. Keri walked in the opposite direction and made her immediate right, turning east.

Keri rubbed her eyes with the backsides of her paws and crossed the street then headed to the end of the block and stepped inside of a surplus gear store to buy supplies for her and her sister. Once finished, she located a plain white cargo van on the lot of a car rental agency. The front office was closed for the remainder of the Sunday afternoon – known as a slow rental day. She removed the license tag and put it on another nearby white van, so the registration wouldn't match the VIN number, incase they ever had to switch plates again in the future.

Keri paused. "Hmm, hotwire it or…" She grinned and went to the rear entrance of the car rental office. The back lot smelled of cleaning chemicals from where the vehicles were washed and prepared during hours of operation. She picked the simple deadbolt lock of the door and let herself inside. The tigress walked to a nearby circuit breaker in the small building's back room. She shut off the main power, disabling the alarm system then carefully nudged the breaker switch forward so that it was sitting in the 'halfway' position. Setting it to look like the circuit breaker merely 'tripped', she would keep an investigation from happening anytime soon.

Waltzing into the front of the office, the clever feline walked behind the counter and opened a drawer beneath the cash register. She rummaged through the drawer then closed it and turned to a file cabinet. In the third drawer, she found the spare key in a manila envelope belonging to the white van she'd chosen. She assumed the main key was locked in a safe or something, which would have given away the fact that one of the vans were missing, instead of letting the works think it was simply rented out.

She turned back to the drawer beneath the register and found a small box full of forgotten license cards that had been accidentally left by customers when having their information put into the computer system. A grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle, getting a slick idea. Keri glanced at the clock on her cell phone then hunted down the manual contract papers. The girl snickered in delight and wrote herself a rental agreement, using the information on the license she'd found in conjunction to the information on the van's key tag.

When finished, she separated the carbon paper and put the bottom copy into a green file cabinet with calendar dates written on the front. The manual contract paper was a different color than the other pre-printed pages but it would still buy her time before the establishment would conduct an investigation and alert the police.

She closed the cabinets, stuck the stolen ID card into her pocket with the front portion of her faux rental agreement and left out the back door. Using her lock pick set, she relocked the deadbolt and returned to the van. Pleased with her handiwork, she unlocked the van, tossed her box of recently purchased gear into the front seat and drove the van off the lot, wrong tags and all.

* * *

_The next morning, after breakfast time…  
Southbound highway along the Volga River…_

**The raccoon shifted his weight **in the passenger seat and glanced at Rachel. With her attention on the road, he took a moment to look her over then smiled inwardly. "So, have you given any thought to your new name?"

Her absent-minded tone made it sound as though her mind was wondering on other things. "No, I'll keep it 'Rachel' for now. If you come up with something, let me know. It's better if you think of one." She bit her lower lip gently then said, "You were right about your sister. I have to admit, I was wrong. This is a lot of money, it'll really help."

With a confident grin, Conner rubbed his jaw line then asked, "How about Dusk?"

"How about _no_." She never took her eyes off the road.

"What about Sharon? Or maybe, uhm, Millie."

Without missing a beat, she said, "Unless your name is Ozzie, neither will work – try again."

"You could take the name of a semi-precious stone, like Jewel, Crystal, Ruby or maybe Diamond."

"It doesn't fit my personality. If you ask me, that's like naming a Native American something like, 'Arrow Head'. Next?"

Cooper shrugged, thinking of all the female names that came to his head. He chose one of the more feminine names from the list that came to his mind. "Scarlet?"

"As in the _Letter_? No thanks."

The boy shook his head in confusion, not connecting her pun to the title of an old classic novel. He blinked twice then said, "We could go with something plain, like Jane. It doesn't stick out and…"

"…And it sounds like a name that would stick out for a hacker. "Jane the Network Hacking Guru… No, _Goddess_. Yeah, Jane sticks out unless you were born over seas before the Cold War. Think of something fiery."

Again, Conner paused to rub the bottom side of his muzzle. "This is harder than I thought," he mused. "How about something random, like 'Apple'?"

"Sorry, I prefer Linux and my mother isn't Gwyneth Paltrow."

He blinked. "Who?"

Rachel lifted her right paw, waving it in a dismissing fashion. "Never mind, you obviously don't watch classic cinema. Moving on…"

"Maybe we could mix words together, like, 'Cinnabar'"

The female driver shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Nice try, but Cinnabar isn't a mixture of words. It's another name for vermilion, an ore of mercury. I own… _owned_ a cinnabar bangle that I got from China."

He tilted his head, pondering the color of vermilion then nodded firmly. "Oh, right, like Dolomite. I used to find that in the hills, where I live when growing up. Neat looking stuff and there's plenty of it all over the Alps." He dropped his paw into his lap and said, "I can't think of anything that sticks out but at the same time doesn't _stand_ out. This is harder than I thought."

"We don't have to think of this new name _today_. There's no reason to rush." Rachel drummed her disposable store-bought fingernails against the steering wheel. "We still have another thirty minutes until we get back to Astrakhan. I know she's funding this trip, but you didn't tell your sister where we were or where we were headed, did you?"

"No. She didn't ask, either." Conner folded his paws, fidgeting for a moment. "How about a variation of your current name, like Rachelle?"

"Yeah, _right_, maybe I should just change my name to _Rachelle Razin_," she muttered, recalling the surname of the dead body they had discovered in her apartment. She closed her paw into a fist then opened it again and shook her head. All of her gear was now roasting inside of some fiery inferno thanks to a bomb inside of some poor dead lady. Rachel shook her head slowly. "How about thirty minutes of music instead?" She reached for the radio, flipped through a few channels then stopped on one that was broadcasting Russian alternative rock bands.

The teenage boy's eyes cut to the right, looking out the window in silence. He kept his paws in his lap, twiddling his thumbs. His mind wondered off to where his cane might be. He imagined it sitting on some desk or in someone's umbrella stand, not knowing the value of their possession. He wanted to pretend some _random bystander_ picked it up because it made for a prettier mental picture than thinking it might have fallen into the wrong hands. He imagined a typical husband and wife taking it to get appraised at a local pawnshop or jewelry store or one of those road-show auction houses. Maybe he could just _buy_ back the cane from Ebay. If only it could be that easy…

* * *

A/N: _Okay, enough with the CANE Cliffhanger. I'll tell you where it is at the very beginning of the next chapter and tie up that loose end. No, I'm not going to make it into a huge deal; I just wanted to teach Conner a lesson. I bet you he won't let ANYTHING happen to it in the future, eh? _

_So, now Rachel has lost everything of value to her and she's growing a little jaded because of it. Her father invented most of that gear and she's kept it running with parts from local computer stores. She's probably feeling like crap right now because it was all that remained of her dad's legacy. It hasn't really hit her yet, she's kind of numb right now and, while she's probably impressed that Conner's sister sent them a __**LOT**__ of money, she's also probably down in the dumps but unable to properly show her emotions. _

_I've not decided on who will become the driver and the muscle for Conner's new team. It'll either be Surge and Javari or it'll be the tiger twins, Keri Tiikeri and Deborah Jean Tiikeri. They're my favorite right now, because there is a lot of cool storyline ideas I can utilize with having twin sisters on the team. They're both strong, as a tiger is RAW muscle power… also, felines are known to be sexy, devious and stealthy. They're known to be graceful and intelligent. Meanwhile, Surge is a cool guy but he's a little reckless and he DID say he wanted to go to America. We haven't seen the last of him, though. Finally, Javari also wants to disappear, but not before first helping the people who drove the blue car in the last chapter. Why? Because they saved her life and the lives of her friends, by attacking that hovercraft. She's ready to leave the life of Pirating behind, so that she can start over… I'm thinking about having her find, meet and eventually date Surge. They'd make a cute couple and then I can write them out, gracefully. Or make them team extras, like the way Sly 3 used Panda King and Demetri… I've not yet decided. _

_Now that all the characters have been introduced, I plan on moving forward with the rest of the story. You know, a plot, a subplot, a general slowly building relationship for some romantic flair and, of course, ACTION! Conner and Rachel will pick their team from the four new characters. Stuff will happen that will cause them to need to become a tight team. There will be a few heists and they'll continue to look for Conner's parents. Carmen will become some sort of distant subplot. If this story becomes popular, maybe I'll write a story about Carmen and what she was doing while this story was happening, or something. That could be fun, huh?_

_I can't think of a name for Rachel. What about Lilly or Lilith? How about Annette? I don't know… maybe I'll keep it as 'Rachel' and she can start utilizing a 'screen name' as her nickname. Some sort of new, fresh Online Moniker. I don't know what to use, though… No one wants to refer to her as, "Pwn U Noobz 55" especially not in narration. I need something simple, classy and maybe a hint sexy. Any ideas? Name or online handle… maybe some of your ideas will help me think of something, or maybe one of you will come up with something that fits perfectly… so, how about some ideas, here? _

_-Kit_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter -7-

**The wind billowed against the hotel window**, sounding like a dull groan, racing along the face of the building. A pair of blue shoes sat atop the heater, mounted beneath the windowsill, drying. Adjacent to them sat a metal license plate still framed in its plastic mounting. The bed closest to the window was a mess, the sheets, blanket and comforter sat bunched up at the edge. Sitting up with her back against the headboard, Rachel worked on her laptop.

Other than the soft clicking of her nails on the keys and the occasional thumb-strike against the spacebar, she made no noise. A pair of headphones filtered sound and music into the raccoon's ears. The headset resembled a plastic headband with two molded hollow pyramids, which covered her twin fuzzy triangles.

She paused from the typing, picked up a pen and jotted down some words on a notebook to her left. After counting the number of entries written on the page, she put the pen into her muzzle horizontally then began typing again. Her right paw lowered to an adding machine on the right of her hip. She punched in several digits, the addition key then her paw returned to the laptop. The adding machine whirred softly, printing a small sheet of paper from the top with a long list of numerical values in black ink.

"Astronomical," she muttered softly over the pen clinched in her teeth. "This is bull sh-" She froze, unable to finish the statement. Her eyes went wide. Rachel lifted her left paw, drawing the headset from her ears. "Hey, Conner – wake up!"

The young Cooper rolled over in the adjacent hotel bed, rubbing at his eyes. "…Huh?" He drew back the layer of blankets from his face, pulling them down to chest level. "Did you say something?"

"A popular soviet website just announced that Mister Gurlukovich was just shot sixteen times by a high caliber handgun at close range." She turned her head from the screen and recited the rest. "Police identified the forty-five year old Karl Gurlukovich, found dead in his automobile garage, in front of a Lexus, which was still running. The slugs are in the seats and door panels; the shell casings are on the garage floor. The guards reportedly heard no disturbances or saw anyone enter the underground garage. However, they're now looking deeper into the fact that he reported his son as abducted right from his house the other day. They think whoever broke in and kidnapped Sergei may have come back and killed the old man."

"Yeah? Who shoots someone sixteen times with a high caliber _silenced_ gun?"

"The mafia," she said, adding, "But _you're_ a suspect in first degree murder."

Conner rolled his eyes and pulled the covers back up. "Whatever."

"No – take this seriously. Your _photograph_, albeit a very blurry outline of you, has surfaced from a parameter surveillance camera – one you must not have known about. It was at the edge of the yard, facing the house. They have a picture of you jumping on a guard's head in the back yard."

He eased up on an elbow and quirked a brow. "Did I have my cane out of the case in that picture?"

"I don't know," she said, looking back at the screen. "If you do, it's too blurry to see anything. You can see that you're using good form, landing on his head, but it's too blurry to tell anything. Since your knees were drawn up, your feet together and your back appears arched, it's obvious that they can't even tell your height, body weight or anything else. All they know is that the 'attacker' had gray fur and wore a black 'object' over one shoulder… obviously the guitar case you used for your cane. And, if you _did_ have your cane out in this photograph, it's in your other paw, opposite of the camera."

"…Great." He paused then frowned. "At least you can't see the cane in the photograph. I wouldn't want the Cooper Clan to be implemented in this crap, nor would I want my parents to ever see a damning picture."

Rachel closed her laptop, putting the operating system into suspend mode. "I also priced out some new gear and some parts. It's going to be damned expensive, but it won't break our budget." She rubbed the bottom of her muzzle and cussed her calculator then shrugged and glanced back at him.

"Your mouth is more foul than a sailor," Conner told her. "But so far as wanting to know how everything is going… just relax. You're fine. They can't identify me, and I think everything will be okay. That guy got what he deserved – karma is a rough thing and now it's over. Stop worrying because you're just complicating things."

"Conner," she said with a sigh. "What if they start putting the puzzle pieces together? Surely a lot of people saw you and Sergei ripping through town in that stupid blue Mustang."

"It was an AC Shelby Cobra," he replied, adding, "So any traffic cameras, cell phone cameras or general eye-witnesses that saw us rip through town that night would probably tell police they saw a 'gray furred' guy with a coyote, especially since people always look at the driver first and foremost. Then the cops will call in a sketch artist. In the end, you're worried that the 'Fuzz' will start looking for me, is that it?"

"Yeah," she said. "I am a little concerned that by this time tomorrow, you might have some people looking for you, cane or not."

He grinned at her then rolled back over and pulled the covers up to his nose. "You worry too much. I was down on the floor, with my face in the seat, so _please_ relax." His confidence was comforting to the older female teenager.

She pushed her laptop from her legs, slid off the bed and moved over to his, sitting down besides him. Rachel placed her paw on the lump of blankets, over his hip. "Don't get yourself killed; I've lost my father, my stuff, my home and, because of all that… I lost my way for a long time. Now I've got some sort of purpose again, even if it doesn't last very long. If you do something stupid, I'll lose that, too."

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to either of us, I won't let those scum-balls hurt you again. The thing is, we can't do everything alone," said Conner. "If we're going to turn this into a family, or a gang, a clan, or whatever else you might want to call it… well, let's just say we're going to need help. Maybe when we get everything sorted out, find my parents and establish that they're not in need of help… maybe when everything is calm and situated, you and I can go into 'business' for ourselves."

"What kind of business?" She tilted her head, looking down at the lump of blankets.

"I'm a thief; you're a logistics wizard. You plan it, I execute it. We could turn a tidy little profit and retire young."

"All this coming from a boy who says he's born into wealth? Why not just retire off your inheritance?"

Conner poked his head from out of the blankets and gazed up at the female raccoon with a sly grin. "In my bloodline, one's worth and credit is summed up by what you're remembered for. If I pull off the best heists, I have a special place for me in the family history, which is a big deal considering the fact that your paw is currently on the hip of the world's unofficially richest boy. But that's okay. I could start over without a penny today and still make a good living for myself. That's _why_ the family is so wealthy… we all add to the same piggy bank. If you stick around for a while, you'll see it for yourself."

She offered him an endearing and empathic smile, patting his waist. "You just keep dreaming. I'm considering myself lucky that your sister was kind enough to send us as much as she did… But I doubt you're anywhere near the infamy of Richie Rich."

"Who?"

Rachel shook her head and chuckled. "Nevermind. It was a cartoon from my father's childhood."

"Charming, how much you know about pop culture from _decades_ ago." He sank back into the pillow and simply looked up at her then changed the topic of conversation. "I'm not very good at this whole flirting thing, but I insist on reminding you that you're _really_ good looking." His eyes lowered in the dim illumination then lifted again, raking over her feminine figure. "I'm sitting here looking at the side-view angle of your silhouette and all I can say is _wow_."

Glad it was fairly dark in the room, Rachel licked her lips apprehensively and, in a lower, husky sort of voice, said, "Silly boy."

Conner drew his top lip between his teeth and grinned impishly. "Some part of my manliness melts away when you call me '_silly_' y'know that? It makes me feel all goofy inside, and stuff."

She shook her head slowly and placed a fingertip against his lips to hush him. "Again, there you go being silly; I can't think of any better word to describe you." Her other paw came up and patted the side of his muzzle tenderly then lifted, running her fingernails through the head-fur, right behind his ears. "Just promise me we're a team – I don't want to lose anything or anyone else, right now – it would hurt too much. You're becoming my rock of stability and I find myself clinging to that rock pretty desperately over the last few days."

He nodded firmly, although he could feel himself melting further from the soft scratching behind his ears. "I promise; I promise I won't hurt you, Rachel." He lifted his head slightly, easing up into her gentle touch. "Mmm, I could easily get used to you having those long plastic nails, if you're going to scratch behind my ears more often."

Rachel giggled softly, patted his muzzle again then stood up and walked to the window. She stood there for a moment, her tail slowly swaying from left to right. Her shapely figure, an hourglass of perfection, remained stoic and his eyes were transfixed on her form. She kept her eyes on the street, down below. "Okay, it's late and we should probably get some sleep. I think we should start our day at a laundromat tomorrow. I'm grateful for the new clothes, but it's all we've had to wear for the last two days." She paused then added, "Roll over so I can take my pants off and fold them, will you?"

Conner rolled somewhat on his bed, creating a sound of the blankets ruffling. He now lay flat on his back, his head facing the window in the dark. True to her word, she used her thumb to ease the low-cut denim pants down from her hips. The black lace underwear hardly covered anything, leaving little to the young man's imagination. She lifted her left foot from the pool of fabric and placed it on the heater next to his boots then removed her sock. Next, she put her foot down and switched, lifting her right foot upon the heater.

Rachel folded her pants and placed them on a nightstand then she took off her crumble-cap by the brim. Her bangs spilled out from either side and she removed a scarf that was around her neck, coiling it overtop of her jeans. She reached for the hem of her shirt and gave a firm tug, so that it came down to her mid thighs, covering her shapely rump. Her tail lifted the shirt hem just slightly offering a teasing glance at the backside of her surprisingly skimpy undergarment. She turned towards her bed, removed the adding machine, her notebook and the pen, gathering them together. She put them on the floor then closed her notebook and placed it on the nightstand with her clothes.

A stretch; she reached her paws above her head with fingers interlaced together and jutted her hip out, arching her back. An adorably cute feminine squeak slipped out in mid-stretch. Her tail curled at the end and she shifted somewhat on her right heel so that he was able to see her at an angle. With her back arched, she inadvertently jutted her chest outward for a moment then relaxed her stance, dropping her arms. "Good night, Conner. Thanks for dealing with me, earlier. I don't mean to cry in front of people but… I've never been that scared before, either."

He watched her sleek form slide into the bed, drawing the sheets up over herself then he told her, "From what I've seen about women, I'm still prepared for another emotional breakdown. You also lost a lot of things, so I understand that it's sitting in your chest, stewing around in your heart. When it's ready to come out, I'll be here for you – like I said earlier, won't hurt you or allow anyone else to bring you to tears again. We're cool, you and I. I feel like I can really trust you." He sat up on an elbow and asked, "I'm really curious, so take me seriously on this – why do girls wear thongs?"

She sat up abruptly and brought her paws down on either side of her hips, huffing loudly. "I told you to roll over, you pervert!"

"I'm not a pervert, I'm just a guy who finds you attractive. So, what about my question? It seems to me that girls who wear thongs, combined with low-cut pants, actually _like_ the attention it draws."

"That's not it at _all_," she rebutted, folding her arms across her chest. "A thong's waistline is higher than normal panties. Women wear them because it covers the crack of your _ass_; nobody likes to see 'plumber's butt', Conner."

Silence. After a moment, he uttered a soft, "…Oh." Then he added, "They look nice on you. Very flattering."

"Oh geeze, you're just being a player. _Good night_, Conner Cooper." She pulled the blankets up and burrowed down into the pillows. "Take a cold shower in the morning, will you?"

"I'm a virgin," he reminded in a defensive tone. "I don't know enough about sex to be a _player_. I'm just blunt and sincere. I'll, uh… try and work on my tact in the future, okay? Oh," he leaned back in bed. "For the record, cold showers don't help – they just cause shrinkage, which does nothing but cause misery."

Another moment of silence then Rachel broke into a fit of giggles. She pulled the covers up over her head to muffle the insistent girlish laughter while trying to catch her breath. "I'm… I'm sorry," she told him between the effeminate tittering. "It's just… that was a _really_ humorous mental image. You shivering in the shower, tail drooped down, the _shrinkage_…" She then breathed the word, "_hysterical_. And yet it would be _so_ cute seeing you that vulnerable."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. "I have my _own_ mental imagery… I bet your bra matches the thong… lacy and black."

She sat up again and hurled a pillow over at him. "Grow up, you!" She immediately lay back down and snuggled into her last pillow. "Doofus."

"That just proves I'm right." His words were muffled beneath the fluffy sham. His right paw snaked out from under the covers, gathering up the pillow she threw at him. He collected it and pulled it under the comforter, building a veritable pillow fortress for his head. "Thanks…!" Both raccoons grew quiet, wondering to themselves what each thought or imagined about the other. Silence resumed.

* * *

_Zero-Seven hundred hours, Astrakhan Russia (07:00)_

"**The name is Javari Ahma. I recognize your car," **she said, placing a paw against the sparkle-blue quarter panel. "I think half of Astrakhan recognizes your car." Out all night, Javari was cold and tired. However, she hid it well. Imagine her fancy to have the little blue car pull up to the curb as she was walking down the block. She still couldn't believe he just appeared out of nowhere.

The coyote turned away from the ATM and looked her over. "Do I know you, Lady?" His thick Russian accent made it difficult to decipher. "You'll have to pardon me, my English is not the best."

"You're fine," she replied with a smile. The wolverine slowly walked her fingertips along the shiny metal front, stopping at the windshield. "I think it's fate that I ran into you on the corner, here. I didn't think I'd see you again." She cut her eyes to the golden cane lying across the bench seat. "_Nice_ walking stick you've got here." Coming off an alcohol buzz, having left the bar about three-and-a-half hours ago, Javari was finally starting to sober up.

"It's not mine, Lady," said the coyote, adding, "I'm Sergei Gurlukovich but you can call me by my nickname, 'Surge'. Javari Ahma, eh? You've seen me recently but now I have you at a disadvantage, yeah?"

"Hovercraft, a few days ago? You drove by it and saved my ass." She drew her paw back from the car and folded her arms across her chest, just beneath her breast. The female eyed him for a moment then smiled. The wolverine had curves – a little meat on her bones in all the right places. "I know I have a lot of ass to save, but I'm still grateful."

Sergei pulled a receipt and a plastic card from the ATM machine and pocketed it with his money then turned back to the woman and approached her. He purposefully looked her over, nice and slow, lifting his head and craning it a bit then stooping down as though inspecting every detail. "No, you're just right. You're about… what? Sixty-two and a half kilograms?"

Javari put her paws on her hips and glared at him for a minute. "I'm nowhere near one hundred thirty-six pounds, but _thank_ you. I'm closer to one-forty-eight." She tilted her head, seeing that he didn't know the conversion and so she simply said, "A hair over sixty-seven kilograms."

"You can do the conversion in your head, Lady?" He stood up straight and folded his arms, mocking the way she had hers crossed. "No, you've got all your weight in the right place… your rump, your chest, a little in the thighs and contrast it perfectly with a nice flat tummy. Like a modern day Marilyn Monroe… just _taller_."

Javari shrugged. "I know the name but I don't even know what she looks like."

Surge grinned, feeling confident. "About nine centimeters shorter than you."

"About three and a half inches, huh? I can handle that." She paused to contemplate the math in her head then nodded firmly. Her cheeks were still numb from drinking for part of the night.

He tilted his head again and said, "You can do that in your head, too? That's impressive, Lady. Miss Ahma," he corrected at the end. "Wanna' go for a ride in the car?"

"First of all," she trailed off then lifted her paws, grasping his jacket collar. "I wanted to thank you for taking that hovercraft off the road." She pulled him into a short, firm kiss. Once he was distracted and looked somewhat dazed, she released his coat and stepped around to the passenger side of the car. "And second of all, I would love a ride in your shiny blue car."

"Well damn," he whispered mostly to himself. The coyote quickly hurried around to her side of the car and opened the door for her, suddenly becoming a gentleman. Once she was inside, he shut the door, rushed over to his side and slid into the driver's seat. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "A lot has happened in the last few days, so I'm not… how you say... ah, 'with it' right now. I didn't mean to stand there like a _geek_ after that kiss; it was nice."

"Yeah?" She leaned back against the leather-wrapped seat and folded her hands glad he was getting her away from the street corner. She knew one thing about living with a group of pirates… she had to stay on the move. "I've had a lot going on, too. What's your story?"

"My father was shot yesterday," he said in a low voice. "Don't sympathize, though. He was being a scoundrel and brought it on himself, if you are knowing what I mean, Lady."

"Just… call me Javari. And you said your name was Surge, yes?"

"Yeah, Surge is good – it's fine with me. I'm not meaning any disrespect by calling you Lady. It's just the way I operate. I like calling people by their title – much like a nickname. Like, _Buddy, friend _or_ Comrade_… that sort of thing. Know what I mean, _Lady_?" He glanced at her, saying the last word in a flirty tone. "Anyway, dad was this joker who thought he could run with the big dogs – Mafia elite. You don't double cross them, lie to them or disrespect their wives by flirting like you're some sort of player. It got him dead as a doornail, as the expression goes."

"…Nice." She ran her fingers through her hair and shifted her weight in the seat. "My ex-boyfriend ran with a band of pirates. We stole anything we could get our hands on. One of the girls on our team, a tigress with a knack for building things, was able to turn gasoline-powered cars, vans and trucks into high-speed boats. We'd take from merchant ships and haul-tail back to land and then blend in with other vehicles or steal another one. Well, that hovercraft followed us across the Caspian and _you_ stopped it."

"You said _ex_-boyfriend?"

"I did." She reached over and patted his forearm. "He was shot, too. Just like your father. And, like you said about your old man, my ex-boyfriend deserved it. Now, let me ask you something… you don't hit women, do you?"

"Who _me_?" Sergei laughed. "What kind of man abuses a woman?" He reached for the shifter and changed gears. "Now, I'm not saying that a woman can't fight. I've seen women fight very well. But there's no reason to haul-off and swing at a lady. Women are for flirting with, not being mean or nasty to – is _that_ why he's your dead ex-boyfriend?"

She returned with delighted laughter of her own. "No, no… I didn't shoot him. The boys on the hovercraft did a fine job of that. Afterwards, their usefulness ran out. From that point on, they posed a threat to me, so believe me when I tell you that I was afraid for my life when they continued to fire on us over and over in a public place… if you ask me, firing in public is an act of desperation. I'm surprised – no, _impressed_ that you came by and managed to take them out – how did you do it?"

The coyote reached for her paw and guided it to the golden cane beneath them, lying across the seat. "This. It belongs to my friend, Conner. Well, he's not really a friend – but he _is_ an acquaintance of mine… and even after our short outing," he trailed off then shrugged. "I suppose he's a tovarisch, after all. At any of the rate, I'm holding onto it until I find him."

"What's his name again?"

"Conner Cooper," said Gurlukovich. "So far, my luck hasn't been very good. I refuse to leave Russia until I can figure out a way to return this to either him or his parents, should I see them again. I am hoping that the death of my father will cause his mother to come around."

"Why? Is she some sort of mafia call girl?"

Sergei laughed in a hearty voice. "No, she works for ICPO. She's been watching my father for some reason or another. If anything, I'll simply give her the stick if I see her at my father's funeral. Undoubtedly, she'll arrive. He's part of the reason she and her husband are vacationing in Russia, to watch my father and his business partner, up in Saint Petersburg."

"What if you find this Conner guy, first?"

"Then I'll return it to him directly," said Surge, adding, "But Conner is no _guy_. He's just a boy. Well, he's not much younger than myself; just a few years… either way he's just a boy. But he's impressive as thieves go; anyone who could get past my father's security without being seen is quite talented."

"He's a child thief?" She furrowed a brow in some measure of confusion. "How old?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere between thirteen and fifteen years of age, Lady. His old man is a world-renowned thief in retirement. Supposedly, I read that he suffered amnesia over twenty years ago and never got it back, so he married his arresting officer, who was Interpol, and they lived happily ever after."

Javari glared at him incredulously then broke down into laughter, stomping her right foot on the floor mat. "Are you _serious_? Oh God, that's good. It's like, you can't even make up crap like that!" She rubbed her face with her paws, the laughter tapered off and she sighed with a slight giggle at the end. "Okay, so… if the father doesn't remember how to be a world-famous crook, where does junior get it from?"

"C'mon, you don't really think the father had _real_ life-long amnesia, do you? Some say it was a ploy, some say he still has it, and some have no idea. Either way, the kid had to grow up with a cop for a mother… so he's learned how to adapt and be twice as sneaky as his father ever could have been… that's why he's so damn good at what he does. Conner's a good kid, just a little nervous about my driving."

She blinked. "Why? You're driving just fine," she replied. "You're doing the speed limit; the car drives smoothly for having racetrack suspension."

The young man grinned inwardly. "Your compliments are appreciated, Lady. So, where are you headed?"

Now that she found the driver of the blue car, she had no real agenda except to retire from the pirating life. "Honestly, I have nowhere to go. So, I'll just go along for the ride until you drop me off."

"Ah," he mused thoughtfully. "We're in the same 'club' then, Javari – neither of us have anywhere to go. Neither of us have a place or a purpose. I've been looking for one of the Coopers so I can return this cane. Eventually, I'm heading to America to get myself together."

"America, now that sounds like promise and opportunity. But _why_ America, though? _Canada_ is the land of the _free_." She paused then cleared her throat and added, "At least in my opinion. Oh, and I was curious… why did your father end up dead, if you don't mind my asking?"

"So far as dad, it's a long story. And as for America… Oh, you know, it's easier to slip between the cracks and operate illegally in America. In that country, state municipal law is higher than federal law. So if you go to an area that has no idea what's going on, you slip between the cracks. Their constitution was written so that the state law is more powerful than the federal law. What does that mean? It means they've created a loophole. That means if you're breaking federal crimes, it becomes a little harder for them to close in on you. Their federal police do not work well with their state or county police for each area. That is why criminals flourish in that country so long as they obey local laws and contribute to local charities, go to church and pay their taxes."

"You know this for a fact?" She shrugged then said, "I have nothing better to do." She offered her paw to him. "This could be the start of a nice friendship. Maybe there's something I could do to make myself useful enough for you to bring me along."

He put his paw into hers. "I'm sure we'll think of something, at least _one thing_ that is non-sexual. Pardon my sense of humor; I have no couth."

She felt comfortable around him. Having no emotional attachment to him made it easy to feel safe, knowing that she could easily defend herself from any physical altercation; he didn't have the emotional control that Kaza had over her. She vowed never to give that part of her heart to another man. "Oh, it's all right. So, you're about twenty-five to thirty kilograms heavier than me? I won't lie; you're my type – big upper torso, broad shoulders… Sweetheart, you can flirt with me all you want. You're not a virgin are you?"

Once more, Sergei broke into hearty laughter. "Virgin? Me? The son of a Mafioso?" He reverted the topic somewhat in order to answer her question. "Dad operated the 'legal' side of the local mob business. That means he had _lots_ of money. When you're wealthy or in my case – the son of someone who is wealthy, you wind up dating quite a few nice girls. No, I'm no virgin, Lady. I'm far from it. So, while we're starting a new page of friendship here… are _you_?"

"No," she said. Her voice grew softer and she added, "If I lived a better lifestyle, I'd be a mother by now. But some things aren't meant to take place just yet."

"What happened?"

She lifted her left paw and made a dismissive gesture. "Let's not talk about that. Let's just say I was growing fond of the idea, and Kaza wasn't."

"That's the ex-boyfriend?"

She nodded and looked down with another shrug. "He's dead – he deserved what happened to him, so it's all in the past. I'm ready to get out of here and start over, nice and fresh. You're a little young," she trailed off and looked him over then grinned. "But you're still legal… and you're attractive. And you have your finances handled, something a woman can appreciate about a breadwinning man. So, in that case…" She patted his knee. "That makes us fast friends. We'll see where it goes from there, but don't worry… I'm not one of those girls turned off by your flirty advances. I suppose that makes me un-classy but I'm not _easy_, either."

"Understood, Lady. In order to move forward, we're going to need money that isn't tied to my family's account. Are you 'down' with going out and collecting a little _capital gains_?" he asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger in a suggestive manner. "Illegally, I might add."

"Sweetheart, that's tame compared to the last crowd I fell in with. What did you have in mind?"

"On the morning news," said Sergei, reaching for a pair of sunglasses as the morning sun broke from the horizon, "There was mention of a guarded escort. These trucks are moving bound cash wads in exchange for a large shipment of gold bullion. I don't want the gold – it's hard to get rid of it… I want the _cash_. There's enough that we can take what we need and they'll never realize it until we're long gone."

"Sounds simple."

"We'll see," remarked Surge with a chuckle. "We'll need to create a distraction because the guards are very well armed."

"That's the downside," she replied. "I hate the fact that they're just guys doing a job. They probably have families, you know?"

"_These_ guards? Hardly!" Surge reached over and placed a paw on her knee, grinning. The early morning sun reflected in his mirrored sunshades. "This 'establishment' is a casino owned by the local mob. It's sort of a chance to get back at the guys who knocked off dad, even though I hated my father's guts. This is the chance to take what I want, leave the country, exchange the currency for something else, then go to America and exchange it for dollars."

"I'm really starting to like this plan. I need a stiff drink… When do we start?" she asked.

"We plan for it tomorrow. The job happens day after… can I count on you?" He reached under his seat and pulled out a chrome flask, passing it to her. Vodka, of course.

Javari placed her paw atop of his right one, which was still on her left knee. "Count me in. See? Like I said earlier… it was fate that I saw your car, while out for a walk." In truth, she had nowhere to go except back to the hospital, which wasn't an option. Up until now, she had started to regret parting ways with the Tiikeri sisters but, having crossed paths with Surge, things were starting to look up. She was out of the cold night air and had some purpose again. Her other paw passed over and took the flask. She used her teeth and opened the cap then lifted it into the wind as if to say, '_cheers_'.

"Za vashe zdorovye," said Surge, nodding to her gesture of the lifted flask.

She lowered the flask below the windshield line, back into the warmth. "Whatever you said," she replied with a slight grin. She made an attempt to repeat the phrase in reply. She cleared her throat, told him, "Na zdorovye," then brought the bottle to her lips. "I'm starving – what do you say to breakfast? I have a little money on me; I'll treat."

He nodded in reply and smiled. "I know just the place. Save your money, Lady. It's on me."

* * *

_Seven thirty-five in the morning_…

**"That's a lot,"**said Deborah Jean with a low whistle. "How feasible would this be to pull off?" she asked, turning to Keri who was also watching the television.

"I don't know, but stealing from a Casino delivery isn't exactly going to be an easy job to pull. They usually have their own private security. They'll shoot first and instead of asking questions, they'll just dump your body in the Volga River. Two days isn't a lot of time. Maybe we can requisition an abandoned repair garage or something similar… then we could steal an armored car and rig it as a decoy. I'm thinking that if you pull an overnighter, you could have it ready in…" Keri glanced at the hotel clock on a table between the beds. "Sixty hours from right now. That's seven-thirty in the evening, two days from now."

"If we can get to the local impound yard and find the flotation bottom from the van we were using…" DJ grinned at her sister and shrugged somewhat. "We could maybe spruce it up and make the decoy armored van a small boat. Instead of swapping the vans, we could hijack the real one, throw the loot into our van then drive away with what we need… take it out over the water, head to a safe place, ditch the float then ditch the armored truck in the next country over or something."

"Well we have time to plan this out. Let's get some food – I'm starving." Keri stood up and nudged her slightly-more-muscular sister with the tip of her toe. "C'mon, let's find a breakfast bar, a diner or some sort of restaurant. I'm ready for some real chow."

"Alright, alright, Keri. Let me go and get dressed. Good God, you're such a spaz, sometimes."

The pink-nosed tigress offered a wide grin. "I'm still the best driver you know!"

DJ nodded in agreement. "The only one who can bring my creations back in one piece. As I recall, that clown Kaza destroyed my van before the howitzer cut him in two pieces. He deserved it for doing such a crappy job at the wheel."

"No arguments here!" Keri frowned and told her sister, "By the way, I learned something about him from Javari that would make you hate him even more." Keri fetched her shoes and started pushing her feet into them. "He was a douche bag. But I don't want to ruin your breakfast. I'll tell you later. Hurry up."

* * *

**"Wake up, Conner."** The repeated phrase caused the raccoon to stretch, prying open his eyes. Everything slowly slid into focus, gazing upwards at Rachel's form. He groaned softly and eased up onto an elbow.

"How about Rebecca?" His voice was groggy, husky and deep. "Also, Lisa means '_fox_' in Russian. Misha is '_Teddy Bear_' and, uh…" He rubbed the side of his face, starting to wake up.

She tilted her head somewhat. "We'll worry about changing my name later on." She paused, tilting her head a bit more then asked, "What's wrong with your voice?" She reached for her laptop and idly mused aloud, "It's actually kinda' sexy when you talk with a calm, deep tone." She opened the laptop and showed him a website.

"What's this?" he asked, not intentionally blowing off her commentary about liking his morning voice.

"It's Gurlukovich – the guy whose house you were in a few days ago." The screen showed an ICPO Red Notice page. The familiar red logo with the sword and scales of justice behind an ovular world surrounded by olive leaves was on the opposite side depicting a photograph of Sergei's father. She eased the computer forward and told him, "He's also mentioned on Europol's website, the FBI's website…" She trailed off, letting Conner read about Gurlukovich.

Beneath the man's personal statistics, a box reading 'Categories of Offences:' displayed the following information: '_Crimes against life and health, crimes involving the use of weapons / explosives illegal possession, Trafficking and Illegal Immigration, People Smuggling, Counterfeiting / Forgery, fraud, thefts, Terrorism Conspiracy, Kidnapping, Crimes against children, Fugitives, Money Laundering…_' but the next two entries caused him to look up at her in confusion.

"Does that seriously say, '_Genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity_' and '_Environmental crimes_,' at the end? How long is this guy's rap sheet?" He paused for a mere second and abruptly said, "But it shouldn't matter – he's dead, now."

She offered a dull glare then pointed at the bottom of the screen. It read, '_Arrest Warrant Issued by: TBILISI / Georgia_' and beneath that was the current date. Rachel cleared her throat and shook her head. "It's still up so Interpol hasn't yet confirmed his death. He's also still up on Europol and the FBI's websites. Didn't you say that your mother and father spoke to him recently? You mentioned Sergei recognizing you because of his recent conversation with your folks. What's going on between all of them, anyhow?"

Conner sat up a bit more, lifting a paw to rub at his face and eyes. "I don't know but that Gurlukovich guy getting _owned_ right in his own underground car garage just means one thing… My parents, if they're safe and well… they'll be in the area investigating his murder. The local Interpol office will have sent someone in to confirm his death so they can update their files and website. The good news is, you _know_ my mother will be attracted to that after having spoken to him."

"But," Rachel closed the laptop and asked, "Why didn't she arrest him on the spot? Why meet with him and his kid then let them go? This guy has a longer list than just about anyone. Genocide? What the hell is 'war crimes' or 'crimes against humanity' or even 'environmental crimes?' Seriously, he's a big catch for _any_ police agent." She shook her head and sighed. "This guy has about everything but 'theft' listed."

"No, that was on there, too." Conner leaned back against the headboard and said, "It was after '_fraud_' but before '_Terrorism Conspiracy_' whatever _that_ is supposed to mean."

"Was it? Sharp eyes – I'll have to double check," she replied.

Conner shrugged. "I'm a thief so it always sticks out to me… But that's an insanely long list for just one man to have pulled off by himself. Apparently this guy is taking the brunt of the blame for a large syndicate. That's an obvious indication of what this mob force is capable of doing…" He scratched behind his ears then shook his head slowly. "Strange that he was out snapping photographs of _you_, instead of sending out some young fresh kid, trying to earn his way up in the Mafia. Why would he come after you, personally? Guys like that, who have that big of a target on their head usually stay out of public and let their underlings do that sort of work."

Rachel placed a pensive paw against her chin, beginning to pace between the hotel beds. "And yet all of his subordinates were guarding the house the other night. Well, maybe not _all_ of them… but certainly a lot."

"Anything else going on, this morning?"

She opened her laptop again and flipped her finger in front of an optical sensor several inches above the keyboard. It caused the screen to change, bringing up a new page. "Yeah… there's a casino in town that is exchanging gold bullion for cash. Apparently someone gambled away a fortune in actual gold. Police are closing down three roads and pulling in one of the largest third party security agencies to carry out the job. It happens in two days, around mid-evening. If we just happened to be in there, gambling at the time of the altercation, it might be foreseeable to dip into that cash flow and take what we need to get started."

"With all that attention, you think the two of us can pull it off?"

The female raccoon nodded her head sagely. "The two of us don't attract attention. We're clean-cut raccoons and look like a young dating couple. I'll need you in there, gambling with me – your only form of ID is your passport, right now? Hmm." She shook her head and paused to think of a solution. "I'd have to somehow hack into the passport agency and change your official age to eighteen so that if they look up your passport through a network interface, they'll let you in to play. It'll be more than just a photo ID, though. If you don't slouch, if you keep your head up and brush your hair, you could pass for a legal adult. Just keep talking in that deeper voice and we'll be all set. So yes, an innocent looking couple could easily get somewhere in range to pull this off. With my planning, it wouldn't be impossible…" She paused then her visage changed, offering a slick grin. "If you're as good as you boasted to be, last night."

"I'm not," he said quietly. He watched her facial expression turn to one of disappointment. This time, Conner grinned. After a short pause, he added, "I'm _better_. I always play-down my abilities. No one likes boasting, so I try and stay humble. A master thief… growing up with a mother who works for the ICPO – are you kidding? You evolve to a new level of _sneaky_ at a very early age in order to keep one step ahead of her – if anything, having an Inspector for a mother made me better. I hated getting caught, so I learned how to be faster than her eye, smarter than her ability to reason and identify potential situations… and, most of all, I had to be able to counter all of her logical analytical training. And this was just to sneak cookies, hide adult magazines in my room and go to my friend's house to play video games in the middle of the night. But I digress; I'm the best – draw up a plan."

Rachel smiled brightly. "Let's go get some breakfast – we'll figure out the legal aspects, for our cover and alibi. We'll need gambling money to buy our way onto the floor. We'll need fancy outfits and we'll need a way to move the money while staying on the casino floor, so as not to blow our cover. I know it's cliché to return to the scene of the crime after a job like that, but it's also our alibi."

"Leave it to me to be the sneak; you just figure out the logistics." He slide his legs out from under the covers and stretched, wearing nothing more than boxer shorts, dressed differently than how he'd gone to bed. "And yes, I'd love breakfast. One thing, though… it is still going to be very hard to do this job alone. Maybe we should look into hiring someone for a cut of the gig. It's hard to maintain an alibi if you stay off the surveillance cameras for too long. Should we be interrogated by the police or casino staff… well, only claim they were in the bathroom for _so long_ before the cops won't believe you, y'know?"

"Fair enough. We'll take it into consideration." Her eyes lowered then lifted again, quickly looking over his boyish frame. "Didn't you go to bed with pants?"

"Yeah, you kept the heat on all night to dry my shoes – so I took off my pants." He pushed his foot beneath the bed and kicked them out of their hiding place. "It's my fault – I shouldn't have tried crossing the Volga River by foot yesterday. Just the same, if I didn't try, we wouldn't have been able to get the license plate you saw out on the ice."

"You're lucky you only fell through that section up to your knees," she reminded him in a scolding tone. "And, by the way, I looked up the information on that plate. The broken mount attached to the plate was most likely part of a bumper belonging to a van tied to international pirating crimes. The van was located with one dead pirate in the same part of town you and Surge drove through the night of the car chase. I think that hovercraft you guys crossed may have been in pursuit of the van at the time."

"Then how did the plate get out on the ice? That's a damn peculiar place for license plates to be."

"Well, I'd heard that these guys were using a modified body kit. The van was supposedly outfitted to drive over the water. When I saw the plate reflecting the sunlight, sitting out on the ice yesterday, I had this gut feeling that it was somehow related to that marine van. I had to know for myself. I didn't want to say anything until I ran the plates because I hate being wrong."

Conner quirked a brow at her then paused to look her over. "You're already dressed and showered?" He rubbed his paws over his ears then said, "Give me a minute to clean up. Then we'll go. By the way, what's your fascination with a van built to float?"

"I wanna know more about it," she told him. "Don't you find it cool that someone out there has the know-how to make something like a van work out in a large body of water? I mean, if it's fast enough, you could get away from anyone and go anywhere. All you would need to have is a lot of reserve fuel and the world would be your oyster, or whatever that saying is."

"Yeah… I suppose." He ambled into the bathroom, grazing his fingertips over his sides. He pushed his paws downward into the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down his legs. The teenage boy used the heel of his foot to shut the door behind himself.

Rachel looked away from the bathroom door and sat down on the bed, drawing her laptop back over her knees. "Rebecca, huh? Hmm, Lisa…" She tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Boys aren't supposed to have a cute ass – they're supposed to be blocky and stocky and plain." She glanced back at the bathroom door. '_He had nice legs, too_,' she thought to herself, opening the notebook again. '_I wonder if he has any clue that my grandfather was a fox_…' She used the Internet on her notebook computer to look up the nearest place to sit down and eat breakfast.

* * *

A/N: _How conveniently cliché! Everyone has the same idea – let's go eat breakfast! So, how will these three duets fall together? Well, to recap everything… Surge and Javari, who have the cane, will go eat at the breakfast bar. Keri and DJ, who are past associates with Javari, will be going to the breakfast bar. Conner and Rachel, who know Surge, will be going to the breakfast bar. So, with any lucky, Conner will get his cane back, meet up with the two other groups by accident, and eventually he and Rachel will choose their future Core Teammates for the new Cooper Gang. The other two people will become supporting cast members but not part of the core gang. Also, by conveniently cliché coincidence… All six of them want to get their hands on the money that will be in the area in about two days time. Yeah! Let's hope everything goes smoothly!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter -8-_  
8am, Dec 30__th__ 2025_

**Conner stopped to look at a televised newsreel in the window **of a local store. He furrowed a brow while watching the screen in curiosity. "Is that the job you mentioned?" On the news, a group of people were on display doing a large cash transfer for the local casino – old undated footage of an eventless cash transfer from a previous similar situation. "Two in the truck, a driver, a 'fourth wheel' in the passenger seat. I see guns out the wah-zoo." He lifted his paw outwards and told her, "We'll have to stay frosty to get this thing working." He dropped his paw and, with a chuckle, added, "My _Krav Maga_ is a little rusty."

"Leave the counter defenses to me," she replied. "Let's just get to breakfast," added the female teenager, placing her paws against his shoulders and guiding him forward. The entire window of the store suddenly changed, displaying televised product as though there was no glass pane to begin with. The entire window was the television, advertising the store's product right on the glass surface. Every so often, it would turn transparent, letting bystanders see into the store; patrons occasionally gazed outside.

Cooper and Rachel remained quiet each with their heads down to stave off the bitter cold. Light flurries fell from the sky. They crossed over the mouth of an alley, coming alongside the restaurant when Conner came to a sudden halt. "Holy crap!" His exclamation caught the immediate attention of Rachel. She turned back to him, noted his canted head, and turned her gaze into the depths of the alley. She mirrored Conner's verbal sentiment then he said it, yet again. Cooper stepped into the alley with his friend in tow and approached a sparkle-blue AC Shelby Cobra racing car. "This belongs to Surge – he must be here!" He peered into the convertible, noting that the seats had not yet collected snowflakes. He frowned, turning away from the car.

"What's wrong?"

Conner lifted a paw, in a somewhat dismissive manner. "It's a reminder of when I lost my cane. I've lost my apatite, too."

"Well I'm starving," she replied in a sharp tone. "Get in here – we need to stick together. If you like, we can discuss changing my name. My identity will still put us into jeopardy. Plus we need to talk about this heist. I want that money to replace my belongings – yeah I was upset when I lost my stuff but you can't be defeated over loss. Have some testicular fortitude."

Conner glared at her. "That goddamn cane is the _key_ to my family fortune. I think it's _stupid_ to make our trademark tool into something so invaluable but that's just how my family operated in antiquity. Let's just… go inside. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

The young man stormed by her, turned left and disappeared from her direct line of sight. She stood in the alley for a moment and ran her fingers back through her hair then followed after him. To her surprise, he was holding the front door open for her and she stepped inside without a word. Conner kept close behind her and the couple began walking through the restaurant, looking for somewhere quiet to sit.

A waitress approached them and spoke in Russian. Conner and Rachel glanced at one another then back at the woman, unable to comprehend her words. She restated her previous inquiry and tilted her head in confusion at their lack of reply.

From off to the left, a masculine voice replied to the woman. The young man butted in front of her, coming face to face with Conner. Sergei Gurlukovich smiled brightly and offered his right hand to Cooper with a broad and enthusiastic expression, accompanied by laughter. "You're still in town? I'm so glad you've not yet left! You should join me at my table – you're the perfect person to help me out! After all, you _owe_ me a favor, Mister Cooper!"

"Sergei, I…" Conner took the coyote's hand in a quick firm shake then swallowed back his previous anger, trying to put on a pleasant façade. "It's good to see you, man."

Surge gave him a playful shove in the chest then turned to Rachel and beamed boisterously. "And who is your lady friend, Conner? You look a little young for her!"

The raccoon teen quickly replied with the first name that came to his mind. "This is _Dawn_. She's helping me get my bearings straight around here. We're going to be in town for a little longer then we're heading north."

Surge brought a paw to his chin, stroking along the bottom-side of his muzzle for a moment. He lifted his left paw outwards at a forty-five degree angle, finger pointing into the air then brought his thumb and middle digit together, snapping his fingers with a loud click. "Honda Accord, right? You came by and picked him up in that twenty-fifteen model – Accord EX, right?" Before she could get in a reply, Sergei continued his banter. "Did you know they mentioned Honda in the Old Testament bible? It's true! They came in an Accord!"

Conner abruptly face-palmed. "Oh, Jesus…"

Sergei waggled his finger at Conner. "No, I said _Old Testament_, not the _New_ one, Frenchie. Come, let's eat together – let me foot your bill, Cooper. I'll tell you all about the favor that you owe me."

Rachel looked at Conner, who glanced back at her. In uniform synchronicity, they shrugged and fell into step behind Sergei who led them back to a rental room, nestled in the rear corner of the restaurant. Two tables were pulled together by the wall with an auspicious cast of females seated on one side. Two tigresses, twin sisters by the looks of it, sat adjacent to one another, with a wolverine by the wall.

Now out of earshot from the rest of the patrons, Sergei said, "Javari," he offered his paw out, motioning to the boxy-faced girl by the wall. "She's my new 'friend' and we've become rather close in a very short time. Also, the Tiikeri sisters," he continued, sweeping his paw over to Keri and Deborah Jean. "I'm not yet sure which one is which, so I'll let them introduce themselves. They're friends of Javari, and when we saw them here she wanted to catch up with her pals. We were discussing a few interesting things and I excused myself to check on my car. That's when I saw you walking the front end. I am suddenly realizing to myself… you're just what we need!"

Rachel passed in front of Conner and offered her paw to each of the girls. "I'm _Dawn_." She cast a glare back at the male raccoon then smiled at Sergei. "He doesn't speak for me; just wanted to get that little fact out in the open. If anything, I speak for _him_, right now. What's this favor you mentioned? You said he _owes_ you?"

Sergei chuckled. "I brought it in with me because I lack a trunk." He knelt beneath the table and reached for a newspaper-wrapped object spanning over a meter in length. He pivoted on his heel and offered it to Conner and '_Dawn_'. "The favor is in reply for delivering you this silly object that should never have been lost to begin with. Besides, you'll need it to help us in about two days time."

Conner's jaw dropped, knowing _exactly_ what Sergei had just given him. He wanted to tear the newspaper wrapping off the cane right then and there but keeping it out of public view seemed a better idea at the moment. Meanwhile, Rachel – now falling into the role-name of 'Dawn' was also quick to drop her jaw. She blinked twice and asked, "Two days…? Are you seriously talking about what I think you're talking about?"

A shrug was issued from the coyote and he smiled at the raccoon girl. "We want your friend to help us _win_ a large hand of money from a local casino. Are you his agent? Don't worry, we'll cut you in evenly – there's plenty to go around."

The gray-furred female approached Sergei and, in a low voice, said, "That's _our_ job. We came here to talk about casing the place over breakfast. What the hell?" She folded her arms, moved around the table, sitting opposite of Javari Ahma, and said, "Now I would be cutting the earnings six ways instead of two – why would we _want in_?"

Before anyone else could speak, Sergei lifted a paw to quiet everyone and said, "Because adding more hands means we can carry more." He kept his palm high, like a 'Stop' sign. No one spoke. He then gestured to the chair next to 'Dawn', across from Keri and sat down at the end seat, across from DJ. Finally, Surge pointed to Javari, diagonally across from him and asked, "Six people – how does this change our odds of success?"

Javari folded her paws on the table; her wrists formed a protective wall around her untouched glass of ice water. "If they're inexperienced deadweight people who simply follow directions like hired guns… it decreases our chance of success by fifteen percent. But since they both speak a language the rest of us can comprehend, it raises the chance of success by three percent, meaning that we're only taking a twelve percent risk. However, if they're skilled and are able to contribute in a positive manner, or if one of them are able to help in a way that keeps them offsite, that actually _increases_ our success rate by a resounding _thirty_ percent. Yet, in order to ensure that everyone leaves with enough _earnings_ to ensure that this is a profitable endeavor, I suggest we make a partial second trip. This decreases our success rate by ten percent, if we're efficient. However, if we're _not_ efficient… it will decrease our success rate by exactly half."

Sergei held his paws outwards, on either side of his shoulders. "There you have it, folks. If we keep our crap together and work as a team, we turn our previous 'sixty-five percent of success' ratio into 'eight-five' percent… If we bicker and fall apart, we drop to an intolerable number and the job isn't worth our time."

The raccoon now known as Dawn cleared her throat. "My calculations call for a two person job with an eighty percent success ratio. Gambling my way into splitting it six ways and having to make a second trip just to stay lucrative… isn't worth a five percent increase, nor is it a gamble worth making since the alternative includes ruining my chances of pulling this off, if you guys are incompetent. I also don't want to have competition. Too many cooks in the kitchen? That's a recipe for disaster. Too many players on the field? That's a huge penalty. I'd rather cut my losses and walk away. I'll procure money in a safer way, thank you very much."

Javari lifted her left paw then wrapped her knuckles on the wood panel wall. "Our sixty-five percent chance of success would be gambled up one-fifth of the way closer to being a 'perfect crime'. I'm satisfied to gamble taking on two more people if they can prove to be important to the mission. However, if your numbers are giving you an initial ratio of eighty percent, I can understand that such a small increase wouldn't be worth your time."

Conner lifted his paw, gesturing for their attention. "I could do this by myself and have a ninety-five percent chance of success. The problem is I need _Dawn_ around to make sure that my face doesn't wind up on their digital surveillance archive. Furthermore, _eighty-five_ percent of all statistics are made up on the spot during conversation. Of the fifteen percent that is researched, calculated and written out using precise variables and intense mathematical equations, half of that is _wrong_, because it can't properly take into account the most important alga-rhythm killing component of all time: Murphy's Law. So, that leaves us with a seven and a half percent chance of _anyone_ knowing what the hell they're talking about." He kept his paw up, signaling to them that he wasn't finished speaking yet.

A slow breath was drawn in released and repeated before Cooper continued. "This is the way I see it… so far, everyone has been using hand gestures to keep the line of communication smooth. It seems that we're all capable and compatible – it proves we're already working together naturally. Our biggest problem is that we all seem fond of carrying on for several minutes, when it's our turn to speak." He motioned towards the tigress sisters. "With the exception of you two, because neither of you have said a thing." He readdressed the remainder of the group. "Long winded talking is great for ensuring that the rest of us are on the same page, but it's also another way of over complicating things. Let's try to limit ourselves to a few words, so that we don't over complicate stupid things." He cut his head to the left, facing Sergei. "And, before I forget – _THANK YOU_ from the bottom of my thieving little heart. Because you recovered this cane for me, I _do_ owe you a favor. There is still honor amongst thieves. If you need my help in this, I'll do it because of the boon, regardless of promising my aid to Dawn in the same gig."

With a firm nod, he placed his paws on the table. For some odd reason, everyone turned to face Rachel, by the wall. The newly named raccoon lowered her eyes to the wooden surface with a frown. "Conner, I can't let you run in there without my help. Your face and your cane would be on the news in no time. Besides, I haven't yet finished helping you with that _situation_ – the one involving the ATM picture."

Sergei clapped his paws together. "Then it's settled. Let's discuss who can help and in what form they are able to help. We'll plan it out from there. Anyone considered dead weight would be promoted to scout. With _two_ good drivers here… we'll split the group into _two_, with two different getaway plans. If anyone is caught, the other team's chance for a successful escape has now just doubled. Anyone who is caught, take a vow of silence – take an oath of promise to remain quiet about the others on the team. In return, your portion of the 'earnings' will be held until your prison release date."

"By my calculations," Dawn glanced over at the group then casually lifted her paw. She continued to speak. "At least one truck guard may wind up in a hospital. On the other hand, at least two casino guards will wind up in a hospital. So, no matter how you spin this, someone is going to wind up hurt in order to get through this. They'll have to be disabled to keep them from stopping us. The danger far outweighs the menial amount of money we'll all collect."

"I guess you didn't hear the street news." This time, Keri's paw lifted. "The media was given substantial disinformation. According to my research, which involved casing the place this morning… the amount of money we're talking about is actually considerably more. First of all, the truck is carrying denominations that are double what the news reported… this means every fistful we 'earn' is worth twice as much as everyone initially thought. Second of all, it's a bigger operation than you guys give it credit for. The _only_ way we can pull this off is by inserting a 'plant' the night before. We rummage up some money, put someone into the casino to gamble… and they disappear. That way they're on location from the inside out." She sat back a bit and folded her arms. Her sister said nothing as of yet.

"That could work," mused Dawn, chorused by Javari. Conner nodded in agreement and Surge brought a paw to his chin, rubbing the bottom of his muzzle in thought.

"No disagreement here, obviously." Conner Cooper shook his head with a chuckle, his mood dramatically improved with the familiar weight of his family cane leaning against his hip. He shifted his weight in the wooden chair then turned to Rachel and whispered into her ear. She whispered back then he whispered to her again.

This time, DJ Tiikeri spoke. "If we're going to work as a team, let's communicate as a team, please."

The raccoons turned back to the group. Conner shrugged with a grin. "Don't mind me, I was whispering sweet nothings into her ear as encouragement. I'm keeping my statement private out of respect for her." He then turned back to Rachel and whispered to her once more, so that no one else could hear his words. "I actually kinda' _like_ 'Dawn'. Also, if they try to pull this job with a sixty-five percent success rate… and if they blow it… they're just going to increase security to make _our_ next job harder to pull off. If we don't make enough of a score when the dust settles, we'll just fall back on 'Plan-B' and you can hack into some bank accounts or… something."

She turned to Conner and whispered directly into his ear. Her breathy reply was warm, causing his ear to flicker listlessly. "Conner, I don't usually trust people I've never met before. This also applies to you. But, just this once… I'm going to try and do this your way. I have nothing else to lose. I'm desperate, homeless and scared out of my freaking mind. I need money. I have people out there trying to _kill_ me, starting with that coyote's _father_. Yeah he's _dead_ but I should be, too. …Also, you're an ass for forcing me into using a name. Now these people know me as Dawn – you've forced my paw. At least, that's how I initially felt. However, it's for the best. If these guys are arrested and cut a deal with the cops, they can't implicate me by name – and I can always change my name again and again… So, for now… you can call me _Dawn_."

Conner lifted his head away from her muzzle and placed a paw on Sergei's shoulder. "She just told me that I ruined the mood for her by telling you guys what I was doing, a moment ago. Ah well… anyhow, we're in. We're on board. Let's do this, guys. I'm not here for the 'earnings' …I'm here for _fun_. I can't wait."

A subtle frown marred Javari's muzzle. She cut her gaze to Sergei, diagonally across from her. "I hope he's as good as you claim, hon."

Surge nodded emphatically. "He made it through all the guards and into my room without even breaking a sweat… and he's only a kid! And you should have seen him keep his composure when he _jumped_ into the back of that Mercedes and took out the driver trying to kill us. Some might have thought him crazy, but he was crafty and under control. A real… how you say… _consummate professional_. Yes, he manhandled that driver, took him straight into a wall then walked away with his chin up, his back straight and his shoulders up."

"Not to mention the fact that I thought my clavicle was broken," replied Conner shaking his head. "I swore that my hip needed to be replaced and I wrote off both my wrists, thinking they were going to be useless after the adrenaline wore off."

"And here you are," said Surge with a grin. "You're uninjured. And even if you were, you handled yourself with dignity, grace and audacity." Beneath the table, he delivered a swift kick to Conner's shin, adding, "You're a professional, quite obviously. A regular Houdini, walking away from that crumbled tin can of a car, looking smug and unscathed. It was _obvious_ that you planned out every detail of that wreck, my friend! I was only _too happy_ to hold onto your cane for you, _like you asked_." He nudged Conner's leg again with the tip of his boot. "That's why I believe in you… you're a _professional_ but you're also _talented_. You do in real life what stunt people do in movies."

"Yeah… sure – that's me." Cooper offered an awkward smile. "There's a fine line between controlled chaos and flying by the seat of your pants… I do the hard stunts because they're easy – honestly, it's only an art form when you make easy things look harder than they are." He cut his gaze to Dawn adjacent to him and smiled weakly in a way that no one else caught. "Just do me a favor, Sergei," he continued, facing away from the coyote. "Stop telling the new team about my secret talents to survive stunts like that. I have a reputation to uphold as _lucky_. I even carry around my father's golden horseshoe from time to time."

The group grew quiet upon the approach of a waitress. Sergei rubbed his paws together, ready to translate everyone's order. "Finally! Let's eat! We'll worry about all the finer details _tomorrow_."

* * *

_10:04 a.m., December 31__st__ 2025__  
(New Years Eve)  
__Second floor of the casino…  
Astrakhan, Russia. _

**New Years Eve** was to be the busiest night of the year for the casino, but at this hour, only a handful of people were in the building. Their designation was decoration for the upcoming festivities. The half-dozen present staff members were on the first floor and behind the bar. Meanwhile, upstairs in the office, Conner Cooper was sitting Indian-style on the floor. He had his hands inside of a computer box, listening to the female voice on the other end of his cellular Bluetooth earpiece. "Okay Dawn, the cloning is complete – I'm going to upload the domain password encryption key in text file format on the cell-flash Internet." He connected a wire from his phone to the server box, via USB interface then said, "Get ready. After this, you seriously _want _me to disconnect the cables to the hard drive on this computer?" He turned about and opened the office door, peeking out. Across the hallway, a security guard walked into the men's bathroom. Conner shut the office door and turned back to the secondary server computer.

"You got it," she replied over the line. "Bring me the cloned image drive; that will make my laptop become the domain controller. Also, make sure you do not turn off the computer. We want it to remain running with the lights on the case still shining. That way the guards won't suspect anything is wrong. Their IT manager won't fly in to fix this until after the holiday."

"I gotcha." He grinned inwardly in consideration to her request then, after a moment, closed the case of the casino's network computer and packed up his tools and gear. He placed his cell phone, web-book and the cloned image drive into his notebook bag and shouldered it. He glanced at a stolen wristwatch on his left forearm and nodded decisively. "Five after the hour _exactly_." He lifted his head, looking at a security camera screen mounted to the wall. Its visual display changed, beginning to go through ten second intervals of the fourth floor cameras, one by one.

Conner adjusted the lay of his blue cap and walked out into the hallway. He put his laptop bag on the floor besides a bathroom door and put his back up against the wall. Seconds later, a security guard came out of the bathroom and abruptly tripped over the bag.

As if rehearsed, the raccoon brought his knee up, catching the man in his face as he fell forward. Following through with graceful precision, Cooper snatched him by the back of the neck and drove him to the floor face first. The guard's breathing became shallow. Conner stepped into the adjacent women's bathroom and fetched a yellow rolling janitor bucket he hid there earlier. He wheeled it out and placed it in front of the men's bathroom door then shouldered his laptop bag and removed a magnetic pass card from the guard's ID badge on his belt.

It only took a moment for Conner to put the badge into a small scanner given to him by the female raccoon now going by the name, 'Dawn'. A green light flashed on the small handheld scanner. He put the identification badge back on the guard's belt and packed the scanner into his bag then cracked his knuckles. "You should be more careful, mister security guard… you tripped over that yellow bucket and knocked yourself out, pal."

A grin tugged at the corner of the raccoon's face. He stepped over the guard, into the men's bathroom and climbed up on the sink. With practiced bravado, he hoisted himself up into the ductwork vent, pulling the grate back into place behind himself and scooted through the metal corridor nice and slow so as not to make any noise.

The female voice over the phone whispered into his ear again. "Conner, make sure you're careful with that card scanner. We don't have a replacement."

"Yeah, I hear ya'." He continued through the duct until reaching a "T" shaped intersection. The left turn went only about two meters and stopped while the right path continued on into the dark oblivion. He moved to the left and peered through the vented slats in the register covering. "Okay, I need that distraction, _Dawn_. But wait until I give you the signal."

"I'm ready."

Conner's amber eyes followed the path of a flamboyant looking decorator from the right to the left. The raccoon uttered a soft but firm, "Now." The man down below stopped and veered away, inspecting a strange blinking light on a nearby wall panel. Satisfied with the diversion, Conner eased through the grate then replaced the panel. He moved down over a bookshelf and crept to the ground then slinked through the hallway, watching to make sure the distracted man didn't look away from the oddly blinking thermostat on the far wall.

The raccoon broke into a wild dash, heading into the empty conference room on his right. He passed through the door on the opposite wall, into the next hallway and hurried down to a corridor behind the kitchen. "I'm heading for the loading dock."

"Okay," she replied over the phone. "Remember, they're in hallway Alpha, decorating the walls. There are cameras in the secondary hall – you want to take the left door and utilize the tertiary corridor. At the end of the hall, make a right and the double doors will be on your immediate left, against the wall. I can only unlock the magnetic seal for twenty-nine seconds. After half a minute, the computer records the door as being open in a log – that is NOT an option, Conner. Ready? Set? _Go!_"

Conner withdrew his cane from the sheath that held it along his back. He increased his pace and hurried through the door on the far left. Unlike the other hallway, which had four cameras, this one only had a single camera mounted to the ceiling on a long pole. It swiveled in a slow, steady motion. He charged towards the surveillance equipment, careful to time his steps.

With gravity defying grace, he thrust his cane into the floor and pushed off of it, forcing his body up. He put his feet out to the right and used momentum to carry his body up for a few quick footsteps. In that time, Conner ran along the wall briefly, avoiding the semi-circle rotational camera by wall-running behind its field of view. Gravity took away his foothold on the bulkhead, carrying him back to the ground. He dropped to the carpeted floor, going into a roll then rose swiftly and made it through the last door.

He cut to the right then pushed away from the wall, elbowing the exit doors on his left. Conner emerged on the concrete strip of the rear loading dock, void of trucks or staff members. The door swung shut behind him and the soft hum of a magnetic seal caused his ears to perk – he'd only _just_ made it with less than a full second to spare.

A quick front flip from the dock and he landed down on the asphalt ramp behind the building. The area was marked with rubber tracks from the trucks that delivered food throughout the week. The young teenager dipped into a nearby alley, where a white van awaited him. Inside, Keri Tiikeri had the rear doors wide open, waiting for him to arrive. He unshouldered his laptop bag and hopped into the back of the van all in one smooth motion. "Go, go! We're good – no one saw me so stay inconspicuous." He turned about and pulled each door shut at the back of the van then crawled across the rubberized floor, towards the front. "Damn, that went smooth."

"All you had to do was disable their hard drive and clone it?"

Conner nodded and told her, "Dawn is going to take the ghosted image and put it onto a secondary hard drive, load it into her laptop and use her computer to control the network, security and all that stuff. That way, if we screw something up during the heist, there won't be any video or audio evidence."

"Awesome. Climb up into the passenger seat." Keri drove out into traffic and merged into the center lane. "We have to go and take care of a few errands; yeah you're coming along for the ride."

He nodded then hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Let's drop off this cloned hard drive to Dawn first, so she can get started on it."

"We won't be _that_ long. I want you to help me pick up some stuff, so we can carry it in together. We'll be back in a few hours, so no worries. Dawn'll get her drive tonight."

* * *

_Twilight, just a few hours later…_

**Now known as Dawn, **the female raccoon lifted her paw to the gray crumble cap, adjusting it by the brim. She leaned back on a bed, feet up, and glared at her laptop. Her other paw fidgeted with her favorite scarf and picked at the frayed cotton end. "The DNS subnet mask isn't right. Either that or their ISA firewall server is looping back, trying to connect to itself. I can't get their internal machine to see an outside connection to the Internet. The IP address _is_ right – one, nine, two, dot, one, six, eight, dot one, dot two, four, seven. The port is eight thousand or eighty – I can't be sure what port their using but I think it should be eight thousand."

Across from her, Surge and Javari were snuggled up on a sofa bed against the wall. Adjacent to the opened sofa sleeper, there was an open door leading to the next room where they'd been staying. Javari rubbed her chin and said, "Dawn, none of us can follow your conversation."

The raccoon lifted her eyes, looked at the two on the sofa then cut her gaze to the female tiger sitting on Conner's empty bed. She frowned with a slight blush then placed both of her paws on the laptop keyboard. "Sorry… And it's more of a monologue, isn't it? Somehow, settings in their server got screwed up. Here's the deal… I'm accessing their network, minus one computer. Conner is bringing me a cloned image of that drive, which will make my life easier. When I get that ghosted hard disc drive installed, their network will think my laptop, here across the street, is their server box. I'll have complete control over their set up. But someone screwed up their computers and I can't access the Internet. If I had more than one computer, I'd just use that and not worry about their tech problems. But I want to use the Internet, so I actually have to fix their jacked-up settings so I can get an external connection. Their ISA firewall server's internal and external network connections are trying to connect to each other, instead of the World Wide Web. Does that make any sense?"

Surge shrugged. "A little," he said with a chuckle. "The network settings of their entire computer grid is still across the street. And, because you can't directly access it and fine-tune the settings, your 'Domain Controller' computer does little more than controls whatever is in that building. However, you also want to be able to access the Net… Ronald Regan once said, "Mister Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" Do change that which inhibits you."

Dawn blinked at him and tilted her head. "You think I should remove their firewall? Yeah, I'd be able to automatically detect an IP address and get connection to the Internet, but that would leave them unprotected. Also, my laptop won't be the 'Domain Controller' until I get the image drive from Conner."

"So?" Surge shrugged. "Are you going to protect your victim from viruses and teenage hackers? Seriously."

The Procyon Lotor – a name she'd given to her laptop – lowered her eyes to the ground, burning a metaphorical hole in the carpet next to the power cord of her notebook computer. "You're right – I'm over-complicating the whole situation. I'll just deactivate their firewall. After tomorrow, they're going to know they were robbed; it's not like we're vanishing without a trace and letting them figure it out way down the road when we're long gone… I just don't like leaving sloppy work in my wake. I'm so used to going in undetected and leaving without a trace."

Javari, sitting in Surge's lap, had her back flush against the coyote's chest. She wiggled into his embrace and yawned then said, "So reactivate the firewall after the heist."

DJ shrugged and added, "You can reset everything to the way you found it – they probably don't allow direct access to the Internet to keep people out. You also have the option of somehow implicating one of your cyber enemies. After we complete the heist, somehow transfer all that stuff to some teenage hacker teeny-bopper. Let him get caught holding the smoking gun."

The raccoon teenager offered a shrug. "It's not that easy unless I somehow went to that person's house and put my laptop hard drive into their computer. At least the way we're set up; that's the only feasible method – I say we just drive a nail through the imaged hard drive when we're done. That fixes everything."

"Just make it quick and easy for you," said Sergei. "Do whatever it is that you do so we can all walk away from this with some pocket cash. I'm trying to head to America with Javari. We really need this to happen without a hitch."

"Everyone wants this to go right," said Dawn with a chuckle. "You don't want to head to America so quickly, though. With everything that's been going on, and with your father at the wrong end of a gun barrel, you don't want to travel anywhere that would cause your passport to bring attention. You want to sit tight, stay below the radar and don't travel for at least a month. Trust me."

Both Sergei and Javari looked somewhat saddened by her words. Javari cleared her throat and said, "I suppose she's right. The best place to be a criminal is next door to the police station – they overlook you if you're right beneath their nose. Maybe in a month or so we can get out of Russia." She lifted her head, looking up at Surge with a fond smile. "We'll retire on the money from your father's life insurance then we'll go out and have fun. I wouldn't mind traveling a little, first."

"Sounds good to me," replied the coyote in a thick Russian dialect. "At the very least, we have to stay in town until the insurance check comes in the mail."

"Makes sense," replied DJ Tiikeri. "Wait for money _then_ leave town for good."

"Okay, okay," said the coyote, shaking his head. "We'll stay a while longer."

"Good, we can use all the help available," replied Dawn, adding, "Thanks for the idea." She cleared her throat quietly, to keep his attention then said, "You're right – they don't need a firewall; after all, I'm already inside the whole network – it's already _been_ compromised by _me_."

The hotel room door opened. Everyone in the room glanced up at Keri and Conner walking in with gear and various bags. The raccoon set his gear down on the bed closest to the entrance and removed the holster with his staff. He tossed it on his bed besides his laptop bag and approached Dawn with a small metallic rectangular object. "Here's your cloned disc drive image, Madame." He lowered to one knee, his head bowed and his right arm extended with the drive displayed in his palm. "As you requested."

"Nice," said Sergei with a chuckle, shifting Javari in his lap then resting his chin upon her shoulder. "I see you're getting good use of the harness I gave to you, friend."

"Indeed I have," replied Conner while keeping his head down, eyes averted for dramatic effect.

The sixteen-year-old girl balked, looking around the room. She tightened her jaw then snatched the drive from him and, in a scolding tone, told him, "Must you act that way in public?"

"No worries," said DJ. "This is a private party, so everything is okay." She grinned then waved to her twin sister. "Hey, you. How'd everything go?"

Keri waved back. "Fine." Without another word, she headed straight for the bathroom. The door shut with a faint click. A moment later, the hiss of water could be heard through the walls, followed by the muffled plop of clothing being tossed to the tiled bathroom floor.

Sitting on the bed with her laptop, Dawn took the drive from Conner and immediately returned her attention to the screen. She was changing some of her file names so that "RACHEL" was no longer anywhere to be found. After logging out of the hacking client she was using to mosey around inside the remaining network, across the street, she powered off her laptop. Carefully, she shut the screen, flipped it over and used a small screwdriver to open a panel on the bottom.

Dawn removed her hard drive then inserted the one given to her by Conner. She replaced the plastic panel on the bottom of the laptop then turned the computer upright, opened it and pressed the power button. "Everyone, cross your fingers. If this works, we can celebrate."

Javari canted her head towards the window and said, "The sun is finally down. I suggest we start drinking early – it _is_ New Years Eve, after all."

"Luckily, I brought booze." Surge lifted his right paw from Javari's tummy and pointed at a bag of glass bottles on the floor by Dawn's bed. "Who wants to get toasted tonight?"

Debbie Jean frowned thoughtfully. "As much as I love a good, stiff drink… and as much as I love to get plastered on New Years Eve… we still have a job tomorrow. Let's try not to get completely skunked tonight." She moved to the floor and walked to the closet by the door, across from the bathroom. "Just to be safe, I'm going to go up to the store and get some Pedialyte, crackers, Pop Tarts and aspirin with caffeine in it. We don't need anyone getting sick before work, tomorrow."

The group watched DJ for a moment. She got her coat, put her shoes on and walked into the bathroom. After a minute or two, she emerged with the van keys. "Listen, guys… none of us really know one another all that well… let's not make complete idiots of ourselves, tonight. No crazy orgies, no pissing contests and no 'Truth or Dare' games or any other game that involves drinking a whole glass if you don't win that round. Let's be professionals, not the Rat Pack."

No one spoke. The tigress smiled, twirled the keys on her finger and left the room. Once she was gone, Surge glanced over at Conner, who then looked over at the girl he'd renamed as 'Dawn'. In turn, she looked over at Javari then at Surge.

Cooper was the first to speak. "Crazy orgies?"

Surge was next. "Damn – she just killed the whole night. I mean, we all know that crazy orgies are right at the _top_ of my priority list." He paused then grinned and added, "Well, maybe if Javari was involved… then I'd be interested."

"I'll bet," replied the wolverine with a sly grin. "I've not known you long enough to spread my legs – but if you keep being sweet to me, I might be willing to consider it."

Dawn face-faulted. "God, I'm glad you guys are rooming together… _across_ the hallway."

"You guys make a nice couple," added Conner. "Strong, forward and full of personality. It's like you guys were meant for one another."

"Slow down, Conner." Javari grinned at him and shook her head then leaned back against Sergei's collarbone. "Seriously, it's true that we're both flirty but Surge and I have both come from a crappy last relationship so we're going to take things slow. Trust me, we talked about it last night while making out."

"She's very _good_ conversation." Sergei grinned much the same way as the girl on his lap. He unwrapped then rewrapped his arms around her waist. "Plus she's a walking, talking calculator. All the percentages she was giving you yesterday morning at breakfast… that was mental math she was doing right on the spot. If you don't believe me, give it a try and ask her something."

"Oh geeze." Javari waved a paw in the air. "I've just memorized a few simple conversions, like inches to centimeters, ounces to grams, pounds to kilograms… all that stuff. I just… that sort of stuff comes natural to me – I don't have any real use for it; I'm not Rainman, I can't count a jar full of jellybeans or a box full of toothpicks."

Cooper sat down on the floor between the two beds and said, "Okay – American currency… I have eight nickels, seventeen quarters, a half dollar, eight pennies, two dimes and a doubloon. How much am I holding?"

"That depends," said Javari in reply. "If it's a Brasher doubloon, which is rather rare, then it's different if you're holding an old Spanish doubloon, which is stamped at twenty-two karat gold, just under an ounce. It was worth one hundred twenty-eight silver reales, as an eight-escudo 'piece' …now, keep in mind that an escudo is worth sixteen silver reales. The thing is, the exchange for gold and silver keep going up. Since you've got five dollars and forty-three cents in American currency and since gold is worth twenty-one hundred dollars an ounce right now… taking into account that a Spanish doubloon is just shy of an ounce, you add the five forty-three to two thousand forty-five dollars for a total of two thousand fifty dollars and forty-three cents. Now, if it's an American Brasher doubloon…"

Conner lifted his paw. "No, it's a Spanish one. But two of my quarters are from the late nineteen fifties."

Javari grinned at his challenge. "Which means you've got some silver worth in those quarters, as they were minted that way until the government changed it, half-way through the sixties. Since they're not pure silver, you're going to subtract fifty cents from your five forty-three then add seven dollars and twelve cents. The grand total is two thousand…"

Again, Conner lifted his paw, interrupting her. "But the pennies are kind of old… all but one of them range between the sixties and seventies."

"Which means the copper-to-zinc ratio is different. Each of them, save your single current issue one, is worth about six and two thirds of a cent up against the current American exchange rate worth. That makes your current total amount conclude at two thousand…"

"Stop!" Dawn ran her fingers back through her hair then shook her head with a sigh. Then, a grin began to form at the corner of her muzzle. "Okay, I have _six_ three-point-five terabyte hard drives, calculated in decimal. How many mega_bits_ of information is that?"

The wolverine cut her gaze towards Dawn and tilted her head then leaned it back into Surge's shoulder, snuggling into him. "Twenty-nine million, three hundred sixty thousand, one hundred twenty-eight mega_bits_ which is _point_ zero, zero, three, four, one, eight of a petabyte. That's thirty-four one eighti_eth_ of a petabyte. Want me to do it in exabytes? I mean… you're talking three trillion, eight hundred forty-eight billion two hundred ninety million, six hundred ninety-seven thousand two hundred sixteen _bytes_ of information. Exactly, I might add. See, I only round up or down if I hit a repeating decimal that goes beyond ten spaces. Really, it's just knowing the base amount, moving the decimal around, doing simple arithmetic and memorizing the names for the big number placements, like 'septillion', or remembering how many 'zeroes' are in a googol, or… say, trigoogolplex. You don't have to be Carl Sagan to discuss numbers that high. If someone really wants to know then at that point, you just say, '_It's a lot – don't worry about it because you can't count that high in this lifetime_.' Then you let it be."

Dawn looked at Conner, who looked at Surge, then at Javari and finally back at Dawn. The female raccoon pulled out her adding machine that she'd used the other night and punched in a few numbers then tapped the 'equals' key several times. "Damn. You've got it right on the nose – I'm not sure about the petabytes, nor would I care about an Exabyte, but… damn. That's pretty impressive, broken down from the binary version – three point five trillion decimal bytes. That's a lot of memory for conversion on your part to do that math correctly. I'm impressed."

Surge gave Javari a playful squeeze around the waistline. "I told you both, you silly raccoons." He whispered something into the wolverine's ear, causing her to cough with a bright blush.

"I don't even want to know," Conner mused, noting her reaction to her new boyfriend's hushed tones. "Something tells me that Javari wants to drink, though."

"Damn right I do," she chimed in with sparkling eyes. "That'll liven up the night. I'm ready to get tanked."

"Vodka has been at the heart of détente just about every time it occurs in Russian History… So, little Finnish girl… did you want some more Vodka? I see a peace treaty between our nations in the near future, Lady." Sergei lifted his paws and placed them overtop of the girl's ears. He directed his next statement to the two raccoons across the room. "She talks the talk, but I've yet to see her actually _drunk_."

Dawn turned her attention back to her laptop, changing various settings on the operating system to allow her better access to the network of the casino, across the street. "Conner and I are technically too young to drink. I'll have something small and light… have any wine coolers in your bag?"

"The weakest thing I have," Sergei began, releasing Ahma's ears, "Is champagne. I also have Absinthe. Everything else is hard liquor. I've got Everclear if you'd like to try half-a-shot. You'd be set for the rest of the night, lightweight."

"I'm not drinking tonight," said Conner with a chuckle. "And Dawn doesn't need Everclear, champagne nor does she need La Fee Verte – and I doubt you brought sugar cubes or spoons, let alone water. Isn't wormwood considered contraband because it's a neurotoxin?"

Sergei shrugged. "Who cares? It's better than the faux stuff, _Absente_." He leaned his head back against the wall, shifting his weight on the sofa bed so that Javari's body weight wouldn't cause his legs to fall asleep from lack of circulation. "Is everyone ready to plunder like the thunder, tomorrow?"

"I hope you boys can defend yourself," said Dawn, casually. "Y'know, just in case things go sour."

"Not a problem," replied Conner.

"Don't worry," said Surge with a hearty chuckle. "I'll bring him back alive so you two can make kissy faces one day, when you're both all grown up."

"You're killing me," said Conner in a sour tone. "Don't get everyone else drunk, please."

"Relax." Sergei smiled then leaned in and nibbled on Javari's neck, whispering in a muffled tone against the fur along her throat. "Grab any bottle you want, Lady – surprise me."

"We're in for a long night," Conner told Dawn.

She nodded then shook her head slowly. "I know. I hope he fights as well as he flirts."

Cooper chuckled and stood up then sat down on the bed besides Dawn. He looked over her shoulder, watching her work as an excuse to get a little closer to her. "We'll know in the morning."

"If you're thinking about trying to kiss me when the New Years ball drops…" Dawn paused then glanced over her shoulder at him, looking him over for a minute.

"Twice, actually. Once when the ball drops in Paris and once when it drops here in Moscow. Don't worry, I won't get carried away."

She smiled and shrugged slightly. "If you do, make sure they're not in the room." She noted his reaction of a blush then reached up and patted his face. "I'm just joking."

* * *

A/N: _We start with a SERIOUSLY action oriented chapter, at the next update! I promise some cool fight scenes! Does anyone want to see Conner get bold enough to kiss Rachel / Dawn when the ball drops at midnight? Let me know._


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: _So here's a hint of romance and a hint of danger and action for ya'. I've been so busy as of late that I got away from this story and for that, I apologize. So! I had a little time at work tonight and decided to write chapter NINE! It's a one shot, all the way through. I only had a page or two done from last week and I sat down and wrote the whole dang thing tonight, so… YAY! Now my eyes are too tired to really give it a good solid editorial job. Blah. I'll do that later and fix this then re-update it or something. If I find anything wrong, that is. Which, I'm sure, I will. xD__Remember, Rachel has changed her name so that the mafia thinks "Rachel" is dead. So now she's going by the name, "Dawn" which works, since it's the title of this story, lol.  
Enjoy 'n stuff! _

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Chapter -9-

**Dawn closed her eyes **and swallowed back the nervousness and apprehension she felt. Her lips were pressed to his, her ears were laid back and her whiskers folded neatly along her muzzle. She felt Conner's paw move alongside of her face. He cupped the backside of her head; her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Somewhere in the background, she heard one of the feline twins say, "Happy New Year!" Dawn couldn't shake this odd sensation of nervousness mixed with elation. She'd kissed boys before but for some reason this was different. This kiss… It felt natural. For a girl who never really had much of a home, she had to admit that whatever it was she imagined home to feel like… _this_ was it. This felt like 'home' …the way in which she thought home _should_ feel. Not only that, he was actually a _very_ good kisser.

He broke the liplock, gazed into her eyes with a confident smile then lifted his muzzle and kissed her forehead. His warm breath against her fur and flesh caused her to shiver at his hushed tone. The muffled whisper was simple and personal. He said, "Happy New Years, Dawn…" paused then quietly added, "Rachel."

"Happy New Years," she whispered back to him in a demure voice. She blushed, not intending to sound or act coy. "That was nice… thank you." The teenage raccoon lifted her paws and rubbed at either side of her face. She turned away from Conner and, in a louder tone, addressed the four others. "Happy New Years, guys. If we're smart about everything… we're all going to start out the New Year with more money. So, here's to our future success and here's to ringing in the fresh New Year ahead of us. Cheers."

Sergei and Javari lifted up their glasses. The tigress twins each had a very small glass of champagne. They clinked the glass rims together then touched their glasses to the ones held by the coyote and wolverine. In an uncoordinated dissonant manner, the four others exclaimed, "Cheers," all at once, speaking overtop of one another.

"I'm feeling pretty drunk," said Javari; she punished a four-ounce glass of hard liquor. "Surge, help me get across the hall so I can sleep this off – I want to take a shower first."

"No worries, Lady. I'll get you over there and tuck you in." He stood up, finished his small glass of Everclear then saluted to everyone in the room. "Don't worry, guys. We're not too drunk to work tomorrow… we just wanted to ring in Twenty Twenty-Six, knowing that things will be different this year." He placed a paw against the wolverine's back and guided her towards the door.

"Goodnight everyone," said Ahma with a hint of slurred speech. "I'm glad everyone met one another… I bet this is going to turn out to be a great year, starting with a great first day. I can feel it." Her voice faded as she and Sergei walked out into the hallway, heading across the way towards their own room. Her voice carried while inebriate, allowing for the remaining four people to hear her drunken words through the walls. She said something to the effect of, "Screw it – take the shower with me, Sergei. I feel like being social right now and standing in there alone would be boring." Her voice continued to fade until the door to their room shut with a thump.

Keri and DJ looked at one another then glanced back at Dawn and Conner. Keri cleared her throat and said, "I think the two of us will retire to our room, next door. We'll give you guys a little alone time, just in case you want to talk." She and her sister stood up together and walked in a line to the small door that separated the two rooms, opposite of the door that emptied into the hall.

"…Yeah, sure thing." Dawn glanced back at the twins then shrugged and cut her gaze back to Conner. "I'd accuse them of playing 'matchmaker' but I think after seeing Surge and Javari run off to fool around… they probably just want to duck out and hide just in case you and I had any intentions."

"I think you're right," he returned with a long, slow nod. "Lucky for us, we didn't drink but a small sip of champagne right before the ball dropped."

"Lord knows – Sergei and Javari have very intense personalities." Dawn closed her laptop and folded her arms across her chest. "Not only are those two tipsy, they're also flirting while drunk. Now they're going to take a _shower_ together? I think it's obvious where that's going to lead."

"Do you mind if I kiss you one more time?"

His words caused her to blush somewhat. She glanced around the empty room then shrugged. "I'll make you a deal, since you obviously like doing that… I'll let you kiss me one more time, right now… and if our mission is successful tomorrow, I'll let you do it again after we get away with the money."

"You've got yourself a deal," Conner said boisterously. He walked across the room and locked the door leading to the twins' room then he walked to the door leading out to the hallway and locked it. The raccoon walked off his nervousness upon approach to her. She lifted her muzzle towards him expectantly.

Conner knew that this was the cliché time when something out of the blue would happen to ruin his chance to kiss her again. He glanced around furtively, waiting for something bad to happen. Slowly, he moved closer to her but nothing 'bad' happened.

Finally, Cooper placed his paws on either side of her head, beneath her ears, and said, "I'm glad I was able to spend my New Years with you. I wouldn't have it any other way." Then, firmly, he meshed his lips against hers in a pleasantly surprising and delicious kiss. Neither raccoon seemed to have kept count of their 'sips of champagne'. Each had two medium sized glasses sitting on a nightstand, both of which were empty. It provided the courage necessary to allow for this quiet little joining to take place.

Neither was truly drunk, but at this point, both now had the courage to act on their inhibitions. They embraced one another and Dawn found it within herself to open her muzzle just enough to let his tongue slip in. Her own pink tip eased forward, brushing against his. She could feel a sudden rush of heat in her face from the blood flow, not to mention the rush of hot blood to the rest of her body. She couldn't deny that she was turned on, while kissing him – it was a fact and she reveled in the sensations that tingled throughout her form.

The brave boy ran his fingertips down to her waistline. He brought her hips close to him then slowly moved his paws around to her backside, cupping her rump on either side of her tail. She blushed against his lips, able to feel the sculpt of his body against her chest and the excitement of his furred legs against her thighs.

Dawn relinquished her arms from around his neck and tucked her arms between their bodies to pry them apart. "I'm… I'm sorry, Conner. We've only just met and… I really like you but..."

He released her backside and brought his paws up to cup either side of her face. "Shh, no you're right – you don't have to say a word; you're absolutely right. It's too soon. You really bring out a side of me I didn't know existed. I'm a bit ramped up right now, I'm sorry."

The teenage girl shook her head quickly. "Don't apologize, I'm delighted that we're both interested in one another. You're _really_ cute and you've got a killer body. I'm flattered and I'm extremely turned on right now. But I'm not like Surge and Javari. I know, they're older and they're at the mercy of their hormones or _something_. But I'm just… I'm not ready yet."

"You're absolutely right," said Conner in a soft, endearing voice. "There's no reason to rush into something – we've not even committed to a relationship because we don't really know one another. The thing is, it's obvious we're both attracted to each other and that's a start. Maybe we _should_ date."

With a devious sort of grin, Dawn waggled her eyebrows at him. "Earn it. I still plan to make good on that kiss if we're successful, tomorrow."

"I have something to look forward to," he returned with a grin of his own. "Let's cool our jets and turn in for the night. That way, we don't rush into something and regret it later. I want things to work with us – hey, by the way… When all of this blows over, I'll be returning home to France… why don't you come with me and we can actually explore the possibility of, y'know… a real relationship and stuff."

She lifted a paw and patted the side of his muzzle. "Russia is growing real old, real fast… Tell ya' what… I'll consider it if you'll be able to help me financially until I get up and on my feet."

"Sounds good to me." He kissed the tip of her nose and turned towards his bed. "Good night, Dawn."

"You, too, Conner." She glanced over her shoulder and looked over his mature-looking body then grinned inwardly, moving towards her bed. "You've got a cute ass, by the way."

This time, Conner blushed. He didn't dare look back at her, lest she see how it affected him. He swallowed back the emotional mixture of teenage feelings welling up in his chest and said, "Yours is better."

"You _would_ say that." She grinned and moved into her bed, pulling the covers up over herself. The raccoon wiggled around beneath the blankets for a moment to get herself comfortable then lifted her pants and shirt from beneath the comforter, folding them and placing them on her nightstand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight… _tease_," he replied, noting that her clothes were now on a stand, leaving his imagination to wonder. He reached out and hit the light switch on the wall-fixture lamp between their beds. The room fell into silence.

* * *

**"Wake up, slugger – today is your day."** The feminine voice was angelic and sweet in the ears of the slumbering teenage boy. His head was buried face down in the pillow but he felt cool air against his back. He reached for the blankets but couldn't find them.

Conner rolled over and sat up, coming face to face with Keri, DJ and Dawn. All of them were dressed and ready to go, while he was sitting in his bed, wearing boxers and socks.

"You're right," said Keri. "He does have a nice body for a fourteen year old. I'm impressed – I've never seen a highschool freshman with a six pack abdomen before." She turned her attention from Dawn to Conner and said, "Are you in the weight training class or something?"

"I'm homeschooled," he said, quickly reaching for his own clothes sitting on the floor by the foot of his bed. "Geeze, girls… not funny."

"Too bad he's not legal," DJ mused with a shrug. "Jail bait is still jail bait and not worth the time."

"He's not jail bait to _me_," replied Dawn, adding, "I'm sixteen – I'm emancipated. It's legal."

"He's all yours, girl." Keri elbowed Dawn and grinned with a shake of her head. "But I'd not let a looker like him get away. He must work out every single day or something."

Conner bunched up his clothes beneath his arms and carried them to the hotel bathroom. "You three are a _trip_. And yes, I work out every day. If I didn't, I'd pull a muscle when trying to spire jump onto something. That wouldn't be in my benefit." He closed the bathroom door behind himself, leaving the girls to look at one another.

"What's a spire jump?" asked DJ.

The other two girls shrugged and Keri said, "Hell if I know." She moved between the bed and the wall, reaching for his cane. "This thing has to be worth a mint – it's dense as hell, maybe platinum or something. What do you think?" She passed it to her sister.

"No, far from Platinum." DJ lifted it and lowered it then lifted it again. She cradled it beneath her arm then slowly twirled it like a majorette. "I can't tell what it is, but I know what it isn't; it's too light to be platinum… yet it feels rock solid."

"What's with using the cane, anyhow?" asked Keri, turning back to Dawn.

"It's a family heirloom. He _tripped_ when he lost it. For two nights in a row he had nightmares – talking in his sleep; I never mentioned that to him, though. The day we met you guys over breakfast and Surge returned his cane… everything was fine. See, he bottles his emotions to some degree and it comes out when he's tired, emotional or when his defenses are down, like when he's asleep."

DJ frowned, folding her arms. "I hate when men show vulnerability." She received a strange look from Keri and Dawn then shrugged in reply. "I want a man who can be firm and intense in bed. Outside the bedroom, I want him to be stoic and stern. As a father, he'll be empathetic but quiet and proud. I don't expect to see him shed a tear unless it's at the birth of his first child."

Keri looked from Dawn back to her sister and quirked a single brow. "Again, we're only _so_ identical on the outside layer; I want a man who rubs his eyes with the back of his paw when Mufasa dies in Lion King."

"What's Lion King?" asked Dawn.

Both Tiikeri girls groaned; DJ shook her head and Keri face-palmed.

The raccoon furrowed her brows and stuffed her paws into her pockets. "Wait, isn't that a cartoon from Disney? I'm sorry – I had to think about it; I usually prefer pop culture music and movies. Cartoons, well… Only a few."

"Let me guess," mused Keri with a grin. "Japanese anime?"

"Oh give me a break," returned the raccoon teen with a huff. She rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, we have one hour before we strike. I'm feeling pretty charged up about doing this thing in the daylight. I actually wanted Conner to sneak in last night and spend the night in the ductwork so that he'd be in a good position during the heist. The thing is, he's too young to have easily walked through the door last night. Not only that, I wasn't about to have him break in before the evening crowed shows up and spend twenty-four hours in a metal tunnel, especially on New Years Eve. We'll just have to cross our fingers."

"Still against doing this as a group?" asked Keri.

Dawn shook her head slowly. "I've moved to open minded – Conner really feels the need to honor his debt to Sergei. Speaking of that boy, I hope he's ready to show professionalism this morning. He's the son of a dead mobster, not a cat burglar. As much as I like Surge and Javari, I have to wonder if they're cut out for this line of work. It takes precision."

"Javari is worth her weight in gold," said DJ.

Keri added, "Sergei is pretty good behind the wheel considering his age and lack of experience."

"And both want to abscond to America," rebutted the raccoon with another frown and a shrug. "Don't you guys speak multiple languages?"

"Yeah, a few." DJ sat down on the bed. She placed the Cooper cane on Conner's pillow then turned about, flopped back on the mattress and crossed her right ankle over her propped left knee. "Surge isn't too bad, either. He's just rambunctious. Eye candy at best – his personality is too much for my taste." She glanced over at Dawn.

"I wonder if Javari let him get past third base, last night."

Keri giggled at Dawn's comment and nodded. "Javari is a passionate girl. Once Kaza wore her down emotionally, she stopped putting out for him. Then he started treating her badly. In response, she absolutely refused to let him have sex with her… but deep down, she's still a passionate girl. She was pretty drunk last night – she likes alcohol, although she's no alcoholic, thankfully."

Deborah Jean propped her head upon her paws, gazing up at the ceiling. "So long as Sergei treats her with respect and doesn't do anything stupid, he'll probably get laid every night for the rest of his life… starting last night."

"Yeah," added Keri. "And I overheard Kaza saying she was '_very good_,' because she really gets into it… so I bet Sergei had one hell of a night."

"But they hardly knew each other!" Dawn shook her head. "I hope they used a rubber."

"Beats me," said Keri. "Javari has gone quite some time without getting laid thanks to Kaza acting like a boob. I bet she was wild on that kid's ass last night."

"Guess I have a lot to learn." Dawn sat down on the edge of her own bed and scratched her head. "I considered sleeping with Conner last night but I didn't want to rush things and screw it all up."

"We heard." DJ smiled. "It was cool, you played it right. I don't expect Javari to find true love any time soon but for the sake of her good-natured heart, I've hoped every man she dated would be 'the one' you know? I have high hopes for Surge, too."

"Yeah." The teenager folded her paws with a shrug. "I'm ready for Conner to be done so we can go."

"Your man is in there, naked," Keri told her with a grin. "You should harass him. Go in there and brush your teeth with no shirt… just a bra. Watch the mirror to see if he peeks through the shower curtain. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"I don't know." Dawn shook her head. "I don't want him jerkin' off or something. If he slips in it and falls… we'd be down one thief."

Both Keri and Debbie Jean broke into a fit of giggles. Dawn smiled inwardly, glad she was able to make her peers laugh. She turned towards the bathroom door and opened it, poking just her head in to see if she could 'see' anything. "What do you want for breakfast? A good breakfast helps keep you at your best and all that."

"An apple," replied Conner. He added, "I'll have a good lunch after the gig. Better make it _two_ apples." From where he stood in the shower, he peered through the gap between the curtain and the wall. He watched her wondering eyes and grinned, knowing she couldn't really see him. He abruptly frowned, seeing her reach for the light switch then sighed when she found it. The room darkened and the door shut.

Cooper finished bathing in the dark. He'd already memorized where every condiment was located – one of the first skills taught to him by his father as a young boy. His mind drifted back for a moment, reliving the exercises with his father. He could hear the voice, reminding him to scan his surroundings for a designated number of seconds before turning out the lights. From that point on, Conner had a predetermined number of seconds to remove difficult objects such as wadded up billfolds from the pockets of a manikin, wired with electronic bells and buzzers sewn into the pocket flaps. He'd be allowed to see what pocket the largest bills were put into for a brief instant before the lights went out. Then it was up to his paws to do all the work.

He smiled to himself in the dark. It was a good memory of spending time with his father. Just as quickly as the memory came, it was gone. He reached for the faucet and turned off the water then stepped out of the tub and reached into the abyss. Instead of groping, he reached carefully outwards until his fingertips brushed against soft cloth. His paw closed, drawing the towel from its holding bar. He reached back out and drew a second one with a secret grin.

Conner used the first one to dry off. Once the towel was heavy and damp, he tied the other towel around his waist. Taking the first towel by the corner, he worked his wrist in a circle, winding the moist cloth until it was rolled. He charged the bathroom door…

Besides his bed, he saw Dawn facing towards the twins. He drew his paw back then thrust it forward, snapping the rolled wet towel. It cracked with a thumping noise and the damp heavy end snapped against her rump.

"OW! God_damn_ that stung!" she howled to the delight of both Conner and Keri. DJ handled it differently, offering a slight scolding glare to the male if only for a moment.

The quieter, mature twin shook her head slowly and said, "Let's take a moment to relax. Breath in deep, exhale nice and slow. I want to calm my nerves before this show so that we don't have the jitters from too much excitement."

"Killjoy." Keri glared at her twin, who narrowed her own eyes in reply. The two tigresses locked their gaze for a moment. No one spoke; it was as if they had an entire conversation with one another by means of facial gestures.

Conner turned for his clothes and gathered his shoes and anything else he'd need. He glanced at the cane on his bed, noting that it had been moved then he retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. To his surprise, Dawn followed him in then sat down on the edge of the tub in the dark. He shut the door behind himself.

"Conner, you couldn't hear us talking through the walls, could you?"

"Why do you ask?" His towel dropped to the floor with a slight plop from water saturation. The only light in the room came from a thin gap beneath the bathroom door. It was just enough for her natural nocturnal eyes to see his silhouette. Likewise, he could see her figure on the edge of the tub. The teenage boy pulled his boxers up his legs then unfolded his pants.

She licked her lips apprehensively and shrugged. "I just didn't want you to feel awkward if you heard our girly conversation, or whatever."

With a tilt of the head, Cooper continued pulling his pants up then fastened them and asked, "Why would it make me awkward to hear that you considered sleeping with me, last night?"

Silence. Dawn fidgeted nervously and turned her feet inwards, until her toes touched one another. Her tail lifted from the tile floor and curled around her ankles. She silently scolded herself for speaking too loud.

"Dawn," he paused then in a softer voice, said, "Rachel… I'm honored. I'm also glad you respect me enough not to come in here and brush your teeth topless or whatever it is one of the twins' suggested. Three things are obvious, here. One, we're into one another. Two, I'm comfortable enough around you – even after such a short time – that I can change my clothes in the same room as you. Finally, it's apparent that we work well together. You got me into Surge's house, passed the guards and off the property unscathed. We're a team so far as I'm concerned… a good team."

"I've been treated badly by boys in the past. Not all of them," she trailed off then shrugged. "A lot of boys, though, have offered very little companionship. I'm no prude, Conner… but with the way I feel about you, I wanted to wait last night because I'm actually _afraid_ of ruining it. I don't want to ruin _anything_. Here's the thing, I don't open up easily and show this side of myself to anyone… but I can't help it around you. So help me God, if you're playing me in some way, I'll castrate you – but that's just it… my instincts tell me that you're someone special."

A short pause then, "It's because you got to see my vulnerable side. Passed out in your car, trembling from the loss of my cane… and apparently I talked in my sleep, too… the gate opened and you let yourself in because you must feel equally as comfortable around me. I mean, it's only been a few days."

"…I know! That's just it… If we were friends for a decade it would make perfect sense to feel this way about you but… it's only been a few days; these feelings don't make any sense!"

There was a stern knock at the door. The bathroom darkened further from a pair of shoes in front of the gap at the bottom. Keri's muffled voice carried through. "Sure it does… it's called _love at first sight_. That sort of thing doesn't happen in ten seconds, but it _does_ happen in a matter of days. You advance through the stages of friendship, adoration, feeling enamored with the other, and finally you're in love… all in a matter of days. It doesn't happen very easily – usually it only happens when you meet your soul mate. Just do one another an important favor… don't go dying."

Dawn's jaw tightened, biting back a secret inner fear. She cleared her throat and in a firm tone, said, "This isn't _Nights in Rodanthe_. No one is dying – not me, not him not you guys. Let's have a little optimism here."

Keri replied, "You're right – you do know old pop culture, music and movies better than you know cartoons. The actors in that movie have both been dead for at least ten years." She walked away from the door, allowing for the light to filter back into the darkened bathroom.

"What was that all about?"

Dawn shrugged, keeping her voice down this time. "It was a movie based on a book. A guy and a girl meet in a fictional bed-and-breakfast inn on the Atlantic Ocean. He's a doctor with an attitude and she's separated from her husband and going through a divorce. They fall in love after only one weekend together and spend the whole next year writing to one another. The week before their next planned visit, he disappears. She finds out that he died and she's grief stricken. That sort of thing isn't going to happen to _us_."

"Maybe that just proves how much we need to be a team." Conner pulled his shirt on and fixed the lay of his collar. "They weren't together, looking out for one another. Some call that fate, but I call it _circumstance_. If we work together, we'll get through anything."

Dawn ran her fingers back through her hair. "You certainly have a way of saying the right things. For someone who is homeschooled and should typically have very bad social skills, you're pretty smooth."

"I learned a thing or two from my father and one of my ancestors, Winslow Thaddeus Cooper. My mom is very attuned to her emotions and so I've had to learn how to bottle my fiery Latino heritage. Finally, I'm French raised so I'm open minded about love but egotistical about values." Silence. He sat down on the closed toilet and began to put his shoes on. "Basically, if you were anyone else, I'd treat you like I had very bad social skills."

"You're cute." She stood up and opened the door. "I told you that I found the original photograph from the ATM camera. We'll act on that when this Casino job is done, okay?"

"Sounds good." He watched her leave the bathroom, his eyes following the silhouette of her sashaying hips. Conner shook his head slowly with an amused grin on his muzzle. His immature, hormonal side wanted desperately to see what she looked like without her clothes. The teen shut his eyes and tried to reflect on what his father told him about Thaddeus Cooper. He drew in a deep breath and attempted to clear his mind."

It was time for work.

* * *

**Bentley's voice was angry and firm**. Conner's small cell phone chirped from lack of charge, as if censoring some of the turtle's choice words. "The temerity of your actions, the impertinence you display with your choices… it shows you're impetuosity, Conner! I'm your godfather and I wouldn't tell you anything that wasn't good advice. Sly, Murray and myself – we waited until we were over sixteen years old to strike out on our own. Fourteen is a dangerous age to play 'adult' and trust me when I tell you that Russia is no place to train yourself in the craft!"

"Bentley, you've yet to tell me that you're impressed I beat your perfect system." He glanced out the window of the van, gazing down the lengthy back alley. "Look, they're waiting for me and I've got to go. Pulling this heist may not have anything to do with helping my parents but I'm doing it because I owe someone a favor for helping _me_. I have the cane and its safe. Stop worrying."

"Are you kidding?" returned the tortoise. "I know how angry your mother will be when she hears about all of this! I called to try and talk you into coming back! I don't wish to match wits with a young man – I have no desire to elucidate my anger, my intentions or my…" The phone beeped again.

"No," said Conner. "You called to try and track my cell phone by its GPS radio and triangulate my whereabouts so you can steal back this cane. Nice try but it takes twenty-five seconds." He glanced down at his watch and said, "It's only been nineteen and my battery is about to die. Clever attempt, though." He ended the phone call and deactivated the phone. It powered off and the screen went dark.

With a brilliant smile, proud of being fairly clever just now, Conner stepped out of the van and stretched. He reached for his cane and attached the harness over his back. The raccoon opened the back of his phone, removed the sim card, the battery and placed them together into a plastic bag. He opened his wallet and took out another sim card and a different battery then placed them into his phone and turned it on.

After a few seconds, a familiar desktop graced the screen. He scrolled down the list of contacts and dialed Dawn. The name in the phone read, "Her." She picked up just seconds later, after the second ring. After a brief burst of static from the encryption software engaging, he heard her answer. His voice was smooth and confident. "Hey, sweet thing. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Her voice was clear and equally confident on the other end of the line.

Conner fished his Bluetooth earpiece from his pocket, activated it and put it into his ear. The conversation transferred from the phone to his earpiece. He locked the keypad and slid the phone into his pocket then cracked his knuckles. "I'm ready, too. What can you see?"

"Everything," she replied. "You're stretching in the back alley. Their surveillance gear is pretty good – everything is clear."

"Is everyone ready to go?"

"One second." Her voice grew distant. He could barely make out her words, speaking into another phone. After a moment, she returned to the line. "Everyone is in place but you're the star of the show, Conner. Remember, that van in the alley is a decoy. It's a rental and it's full of fertilizer because they're going to destroy it. That's both a diversion and something used to throw off the cops, later on. Keri will pick you up at the extraction point. Surge will provide escort and lure the cops after him by driving erratically as if trying to elude any police that come up behind you guys. She's dressed preppy and pleasant and will be using my Accord. Meanwhile, Surge will be wearing a skiing mask and driving a white van."

"Okay, I'm going to head upstairs now. See you inside – you're my eyes, Dawn." He shut the door to the van, which enabled the triggering device on the bomb under the seats. Conner withdrew the cane from his harness, twirled it for good measure then jumped atop the van.

He leapt upwards, catching the hook of his cane on a cement windowsill. From there, he put his feet on the masonry then launched himself upwards, closing his free fist around a drainage pipe. He slid the cane back into its holster then reached up and gripped the pipe, pulling himself up as if climbing a gym rope.

"You're scaling that pipe with only upper body strength? No feet?" She sounded impressed. "No wonder your chest looks like it does. Okay, the window above you is tied into the alarm system. I've deactivated it – go ahead and break it with your cane."

Conner did as he was told. He climbed along the pipe until he came alongside the window. He pulled his cane back out and thrust the base into the window. A puff of thick smoke billowed out from the bottom of the cane. By the time it cleared, he was nowhere to be scene on her security camera.

Dawn's voice was relaxed over the earpiece. "The armed truck is right on time – perfect. They're at a red light one block north of the Casino. Apparently they've phoned ahead because I see the staff moving down to the first floor in anticipation."

"Gotcha." He darted across the hall and moved to the stairwell not far from the main elevators. "Make sure you tell everyone to fall back after the drivers attack the armored car. I don't want anyone killed, here."

"We've gone over the plan – they're ready."

* * *

_Meanwhile… _

**Sergei and Keri** sat in their respective positions, behind the wheels of two stolen cars. They watched the armored vehicle pull into position. The waited patiently while two armed men carried out a cart full of money. As soon as they wheeled it inside, the two cars pulled out of the alleyways and crossed by one another at a high rate of speed. Each driver used rapid-fire low-powered twenty-two caliber weapons, shooting at the armored vehicle.

The armored truck operators quickly got down and radioed the men inside, telling them to stay in the casino. They phoned the local authorities and exclaimed that they were under attack.

Sergei pulled into an alley at the end of the block and switched into a white box van. Keri pulled into another alley at the opposite end of the street and switched into the Honda Accord. The armored truck backed up to the front doors of the casino, part of their trained evasive maneuvers.

The white van in the alley, adjacent to the casino building, detonated to full effect. It was filled with chemical agents and fertilizer to create more of an explosive effect than a concussive blast. The fiery explosion could be seen as the van was parked right at the mouth of the alleyway. The armored truck drivers got down low, staying below the windows.

Back inside the casino, Conner stepped out of the stairwell and immediately noted one of the armored truck workers with his gun drawn. He faced the main doors and stood alone. The next closest worker was at the other end of the room with most everyone else hurrying down to the casino vault.

Cooper approached the man quietly and withdrew his cane. He snatched the man by his neck and, with all the might in his young body, jerked the uniformed man back into the stairwell. The raccoon pushed a paw out to catch the door so that it wouldn't slam shut. He pivoted on his heel and used the cane like a bat, striking the armed man across the chest to knock the air out of him.

The man got to his feet, gun drawn but winded. He kept the weapon pointed in Conner's face and wheezed out the words, "Put your hands up, kid."

That was the time to strike. Conner knew the man was expecting paw movement and so he began to lift his paws. Quite suddenly, he grabbed the pistol in his left hand and pushed it far to the right, redirecting the line of fire.

With the gunner now off balance, Conner recalled his mother's teachings and crossed his forearms. He used his right paw to strike the man's inner elbow and his left paw, still on the weapon, forced the gun down against the man's hip. Then, with the backside of his right paw, he struck the man in the face and brought his knee up into the man's groin.

Now close to the man, Conner brought his right paw down, beneath the gun. He reached for it as though it was flat on a table and cupped his fingers around the backside, over the hammer. He shifted his grip, rotating the gun 180 degrees, so that the gun was flipped, causing the gunner's grip to become backhanded. There was an extremely audible 'pop' sound of the man's index finger breaking in the trigger guard from jerking the weapon over with his paw still on the weapon.

Conner's eyes lifted, watching the man gasp for breath, unable to scream in pain from having the air knocked out of his lungs, previously. The raccoon re-rotated the weapon back to its original position, allowing the gunner to jerk his injured paw away from the gun instinctively. He stepped back, now holding the weapon and pointed it in the man's face. The injured uniformed man slowly lowered to his knees, half elevating his paws in submission as trained. He said something in Russian, barely audible from lack of breath.

"Caiete," Conner whispered in reply. He carefully eased his cane over his shoulder and back into the holster on his back then brought his paw back to the bottom of the butt-stock on the pistol, beneath his right paw. He motioned towards the emergency exit at the back of the first floor stairwell. The man got to his feet, turned around and walked towards the door.

Quickly, Cooper struck him in the back of the head with the bottom of the gun's handle. The guard dropped to the ground in silence, unconscious. He knelt down by the guard and put an ear to the man's face to make sure he was breathing. Satisfied that the man was alive, he unloaded the weapon, tapped and racked the slide to eject the last round and tossed the empty gun on the ground. Conner gave a wanton tug of his blue gloves, hand-me-downs from his father, then left the stairwell.

Out on the first floor, there was only one guard left. With everyone else down at the vault, setting up some sort of fortified position, he took to the grand stairs in the lobby. They were ornate, wrapped in wood trim and plush red carpeting. From there, he climbed up on the banister and leapt into the chandelier.

He moved directly above the last remaining guard then dropped from above, landing on the man's shoulders. The guard dropped to the ground from the weighty attack, leaving him prone for a head attack from Conner's cane, similar to the man in the stairwell. The guard went still. The teenager leaned down to make sure he was alive then took his ankles and dragged him over to the back stairs by the elevators, in the far corner.

Above his head, the emergency exit light flickered from a loose connection. Conner held the door open with his foot and dragged the man through the doorway then laid him down next to his partner. Like before, Cooper removed his weapon, unloaded it then dropped the gun on the floor. "Phase one is complete. Are those men down in the vault, waiting for the cops to arrive?"

"You got it," she replied. "Sergei is going to do another run by the armored truck and shoot at it but not until the first of the cops arrive on the scene. You'll leave through the rear stairwell entrance and go with Keri."

"Neat. I'll take out the guys in the armored truck and offload the big bills into the trunk." He approached the main doors, where the Armored Truck was backed up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green disc. Upon opening up the front door, he tossed the green object into the back of the truck, which still had its back doors open, although it was backed up to the front doors right to the bumper.

Conner abruptly slammed the doors shut and ducked off to the side, getting down low. Several gunshots pierced the wood doors, narrowly missing him. After a few seconds, the gunshots ceased. He opened the doors and peered into the back of the armored truck, while holding his breath.

A waft of smog poured out of the truck. After clearing, he could see that the two remaining men were unconscious. "Change of plan, hon. I managed to take out the Armored Truck drivers. All four are dispatched. Tell our guy to shoot towards the cops and draw their fire _that way_ instead."

"Gotcha. Good work on taking down both the drivers. That makes things a whole lot easier."

"Okay, stand by." He stepped into the back of the armored truck, took an empty sack and stuffed it with as many large bills as he could manage than he hopped out of the back of the truck and moved to the back corner of the room, where the elevators were located. He dipped back into the maintenance stairwell and stepped over the unconscious two men on the floor then opened the back exit.

Keri Tiikeri was at the wheel of the Accord, the trunk was open. He moved behind the car and tossed in the first bag. Conner went back for another bag then made a third trip. After the fourth trip, the trunk was full. "Good deal, we can't hold anymore. We're out of here."

"Wait, hold up." Dawn's voice was full of concern. "The owner of the casino just passed in front of a camera… you'll never believe this. I just pulled up the image to cross reference it – it's a match."

"Who, what?"

Dawn was straight to the point. "He's the guy in the ATM photograph. The blurred one."

"What!" Conner blinked and perked up. "I thought you said mom had her gun drawn in that original picture?"

"I did! That guy will know where your mother is, because he was her target, which was covered up by that bank, meaning the owner of this casino must have ties to that bank. He's the missing puzzle piece, here."

"Dammit! I need to get him alone in a room so I can talk to him."

"He's surrounded by his thugs – there are four guys down there with him, plus two outside of the vault. Just be warned there are also two more guys up on the top floor. They're armed with some sort of assault rifles, I can't tell from the angle."

"Dammit, I need to get that guy… what about coming back here later on?"

"It's possible," said Dawn. "The thing is, he'll have increased security after a robbery. Especially at his house; security is actually better at his home than it is at the casino, except during the hours of operation. I'd say now is best because he's under prepared."

"But if he's locked himself in the vault, we're kind'a screwed, right?"

Dawn's tone lowered. "True. You don't have enough time to lure him out between now and when the cops arrive."

"Which car belongs to him?"

"I don't know!" she replied. "His coat is in the third floor office. Check which car keys are his, then you'll at least know what brand he drives."

"I'll do better than that. Tell our drivers to go – I'll find my own way home."

Dawn immediately got defensive. "What are you talking about, Conner?"

"Just do it! I have a plan – I'll explain it when we're not talking over a phone. Tell them to go without me!" He hurried towards the large fancy staircase in the middle of the foyer then made his way up to the third floor. The stairs only went up to the second floor. From there, he had to take an elevator to the third. The fancy little enclosure had marble floors and reflective golden-colored walls.

On the third floor, Conner hurried to the main office. He located a jacket on the back of a fancy looking leather chair. The keys in the pocket belonged to a current model year BMW '7 series' coupe. He took the keys and hurried down to the steps in the back of the building. Once back to the first floor, he stepped over the bodies, took one of the guns, stuffed it into his belt and went back out through the back door. The Accord was gone.

He leapt for the nearest drainage pipe and climbed up to the ledge of the second story window then slowly moved along the wall until he was behind the building, next to a parking garage. Conner jumped across the gap and grappled with the wall of the garage's second level then climbed over. He began wondering through the garage until he found the BMW on the fourth level. "I'm going to ambush this guy. Can you see me?"

"You're on the camera, yes. You're in the parking garage. What're you going to do? Wait in his trunk?"

"See?" Cooper laughed. "That's why you and I work so well – we're on the same page, together. I want you to call me back the minute he comes out to his car. He'll probably be savaging around the lot, to see if he'd dropped his keys – I'm going to pop the trunk and leave the keys on the ground by his driver-side door. As soon as I hear the keys jingle, I'm going to get myself ready. When he gets in, I'll put the backseats down and climbed into the back then put a gun to his head. From that point on, I'll take him to a meeting point."

"You said you want me to call you," she mused. "What's the plan with that?"

Conner opened the trunk, tossed the keys on the ground by the door then hopped in the back and pulled the trunk shut. "Tell me how many guards are with him. That way I know to wait, or if they're in separate cars… all those details. In the meantime, put the money somewhere safe and split it up. Then set up somewhere secure, safe and quiet so we can get this guy alone. Talk to the gang and get their permission to be involved in this – it's a personal issue and I need to know if they're willing to get involved in that. If not, I'll understand – I just need to know, first. I'm going to hang up and hide out."

"Con," she froze, remembering the 'no name' rule and said, "Listen, you…" she sighed with a short pause. "Be… just… be careful, please. You're only," she almost said his age and sighed again. "You're awfully young; don't get in over your head."

"Stop worrying. And age has nothing to do with anything. I want to find my parents before something happens. Call me back when he's coming out to his car, okay?"

"Okay, stay safe." She hung up.

* * *

A/N: _Okay, so now things heat up. I have a lot in store for this story. At the same time, I'll have to go back to Castlevania: Claws of Fate, StarFox: The Curse and StarFox: Reflections of Marcus McCloud soon. I also want to update the bandwagon crossover story of doom, and I've got a few pages written for that new chapter, too. _

_Needless to say, I'll churn out a few more chapters here before I go back to those stories. See, NOW is when we'll start to find out how this story will tell the backstory of Spy Cooper. That was initially my intent but I took a detour to really set the background first. Longer than I intended, for SURE. See, Sly and Carmelita found a trail back in November (beginning of this story) that had something to do with stuff that happened in Spy Cooper. So, of course, they went to Russia and found that empty town. From there, they disappeared only to reappear on a photograph with the Casino owner. _

_Now, they've disappeared again. I plan on taking the gang over to America, that will cause Sergei and Javari to stay around a little longer. Of course, Dawn's concerns about using their passport may come into play so we'll see what happens with that. But yeah, we're not staying in Russia much longer. Also, this young team has to have its first slip up failure at some point. Right now, they've got big egos and feel invincible. That has to change. Also, I want Dawn and Conner to develop. Sergei and Javari have also fallen in together and are very taken with one another. It's not 'true love' but they're very compatible physically and mentally. _

_Conner now has himself in a tight spot, in the back of this guy's car… we'll see how that plays out in the next chapter. _

_For those of you who couldn't understand what Conner did to disarm the guard, I'll explain it real quick. _

'_' is an acronym for "Redirect, Control, Attack, Take away". _

_What he did was, when the guy said, "put your hands up," he lifted his paws and made his move then. He grabbed the muzzle of the pistol and pointed it away from his face. That's the 'redirect' part. Then he forced the man's arm down so that the barrel was against the man's hip, which is 'control'. With the gun now in a safer place, he was able to strike the man, which was 'attack'. With the man stunned, Conner was finally able to 'take away' the gun. _

_What he did is very dangerous and I did a lot of research on how to execute it properly. If you go and practice this with a friend, don't let them have their finger on the trigger, because this method will break their index finger. _

_What you do is, while the gun is pinned against their hip, with your left hand holding it against the right side of their waist, you hit'em to get them distracted. Then, you reach your right hand down, behind where your left hand is holding the gun against their hip. Imagine the gun is being held flat, like its lying on a table or something similar. Now, you reach your right hand behind the weapon and cup the back end, where the hammer is. Now that you have it, you rotate it 180 degrees, so that the flat gun is now flipped over, as if you picked it up off the table and put it back down on the other side of the gun. However, when you do this very fast, you break the finger that's in the trigger guard. _

_Finally, you rotate the gun back 90 degrees and pull it off their broken finger, so that it doesn't snag. Now you have the weapon. You tap and rack it and back up. Typically, if you're ever using this, you want to keep that gun and run. And at that point, you're only using this technique if giving them your money, wallet, keys, watch etc wasn't enough. If they still have a gun in your face, they obviously want blood and this becomes your last defense. Once you get the gun, you RUN. You keep that gun and you run to the nearest safe place. Take it to the police station and hold it by the barrel, handle out and say, "take this, I just grabbed it off of some man who was trying to kill me in the back alley!" But yeah, don't be like Conner and leave it. He simply doesn't work with guns and was leaving it behind as a statement… although, if you noticed, he picked it up and took it with him at the end, there. _

_So yeah, this entire heist did NOT go according to plan. They wound up robbing the truck instead of the casino. They wound up dispatching the guards instead of the casino workers because they found it to be easier. Finally, Conner did NOT go with Keri – he stayed to ambush the casino owner. Let's see how it works out for him, huh? _

_Thanks for reading, as always! I know the Sly Cooper reader / fan base has dwindled down substantially because it's been so long since the last game came out… but have no fear! Sly 4 is on the drawing board because Infamous is now finished and on the shelf, making money! YAY! _

_For more information on how Conner defended himself, you can look on Google. There are various ways to disarm an assailant but the one I chose to utalize was called "Krav Maga". The defense tactic is called "Frontal Gun Defense Training" and can be found on YouTube. Look up the user named "Expertvillage" and the video is called, "Essentials of Krav Maga Self Defense Techniques : Front Gun Attack : Krav Maga" They actually show in detail how to rotate the gun and break the offender's finger, etc. Very interesting stuff, there. Take care!_

_-Kit _


	10. Chapter 10

A/N:_ Let's sit down and be serious for a minute… Now, we're all big boys and girls, reading the "T" rated stories. We're here because we're old enough to read the bigboy story with the bigboy themes, of which are rated accordingly… for TEENS. All right, get ready. I've decided I'm in the mood for ROMANCE. So, we're going to get as passionate and romantic as possible in this chapter, WITHOUT sex, without raunchy details and without being lewd. In fact, I want it to be sweet, romantic and naïve while at the same time, sexy and fanciful. So, for those of you who reviewed the last chapter, asking when Conner and Dawn are going to sleep together… you won't actually see that act in this story. For two reasons: One, I don't want to get my work pulled out of FanFiction's website. There's a site just for that… ADULTFANFICTION dot com. IF the characters ever DO decide to go beyond romantic and fairly innocent teenage pleasures then BELIEVE ME, I'll simply TELL you it happened without writing it. IF there is a demand for a short story on the side to see the actual scene, I may consider writing it and putting it up on the adult site, or emailing it to people who can validate that they're not twelve years old. I don't need parents getting upset about their kids reading smut then emailing ME with threats about calling the police. It's happened before with a fifteen year old kid who used to read my StarFox stories and some of my older Sly Cooper work. _

_Now, there is brief nudity in this chapter but I don't write about them yiffing AT ALL. There's also a sensual kiss scene in this chapter, which happens BEFORE the nudity. SO… let's all be mature here… there are tons of PG-13 movies (equal to the TEEN RATING that this story currently holds) and in those movies there has been sexual scenes and nude scenes that depict the actors covered only by thin sheets. Well, even THAT goes further than I'm going HERE. So, yeah… it's teenage romance at a teenage reading level. _

_The REAL reason these characters do NOT engage in intercourse in this chapter is because THEY are NOT READY for that commitment yet. It's a mature action requiring mature thinking and responsibility on their parts. It's NOT happening, because THEY are NOT READY for it. They're just teenagers, y'know? No reason to rush into things; they've only known one another for about a week – and yes, even this is going a little fast but remember one thing… they're teenagers. They're not mature enough to make the best decisions just yet. So yeah, they DO rush headlong into something serious. But for all you romantics out there… THIS is the chapter when Dawn and Conner confess their feelings to one another. I hope you enjoy it! And remember, we're here to read this chapter because it's mushy and gushy and full of romance. Not because we want to see one character bang the other. And if you're here for that… email me and we'll discuss it further (like possibly writing an unedited chapter in the near future the way I did for Chapter 9 of Spy Cooper, "Box Therapy".) THANKS AGAIN!

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Chapter -10-

**Conner bit into the second apple still in his pocket. **In his other paw, he took one of the magazines he'd stolen from the armed guards, and pushed it into the gun he put in his belt, earlier. He drew the slide back, loading a round into place then engaged the safety. He thought back over the conversation he had by phone then groaned at the memory.

Not only had _he_ used her name, she used names at the beginning of the call and had used his name at least twice, as well as the names of both their drivers shortly after the point of time when Cooper disabled the first two guards. Hindsight twenty-twenty; he was too charged up to have paid attention while doing the job. Now he was thankful for using software encryption on their cell phones. Just in case, of course. It was Dawn's idea – he could only hope that it worked the way it was supposed to.

Okay, so they weren't professional but it _was_ their _first_ major job. He was thankful that everyone got away and that the money was no longer at the site. For now, he waited in the dark while eating an apple. He had to remove his cane in order to fit in the trunk. It was placed into the small compartment diagonally with him lying atop of it. Two hours had passed and everything was silent.

His cell phone illuminated then buzzed softly. He reached for it and pressed the 'answer' button and stuffed it into his pocket. His Bluetooth earpiece beeped than crackled with the distorted sound of software encryption engaging. "Conner?" Dawn's tone was hushed.

"I'm in position," he whispered in reply.

"He's coming. Just like you said, he's scouring the lot for his keys, backtracking the way he came to work. His companion is getting into the sedan to the left. I'm going to have one of our drivers block him out on the road and somehow cause him to miss a red light. I'll give you the signal, at which point you take our new hostage down the nearest set of turns to get them separated. I'll guide you to a private location and we'll put this guy through the ringer. I have his name for you."

"No need," said Conner. "I got it from his registration card. Why do all the bad guys in Russia have to have the name 'Boris?' I could never understand that."

"Good question," she replied, adding, "Wait until we block his bodyguard's car then I'll give you the cue to put the back seats down and climb in from behind him. I want you to smack the rearview mirror right away so he can't see your face, nor see behind himself very easily. Don't let him know you're young until we're at the meeting point."

"Copy." He heard the keys jingle from outside and said, "Shh." The raccoon grew quiet and mentally prepared himself for everything that would transpire over the next several moments. He heard the muffled sound of the driverside door open then close and the engine start.

Dawn continued to speak over the line. "His file says that he speaks English, Korean and Portuguese, which is similar to Spanish but fairly different. His mother was a Cossack and lived most of her life in Great Britain. Try using English. The tattoo on his right shoulder is a short-hand phrase meaning, "Death to Lenin" a reference to Vladimir Lenin, who died in January, one hundred and two years ago. He's credited with contributions to Marxist theory, called Leninism and founded the Bolshevism party. Cossacks hate the Bolsheviks. They fought against Communists, leading to a civil war."

Conner said nothing. He placed the apple core down in the lower corner of the trunk and listened to her words.

"It only seems fitting that Boris is a successful capitalist, running his own casino, tied to a bank in Saint Petersburg and all that. He drives a fancy European car and rolls around in money all day. Conner, you need to be smart and diplomatic with how you talk to this guy. Stay smart… Okay, you guys are leaving the garage and are going beyond my visual range from the security cameras. Stay frosty."

Silence. The motor hummed softly and the car picked up speed. Dawn's voice returned to his earpiece. "Okay, our guy is moving into an intercepting position. He's going to come out of a side street and slam on his brakes, blocking the bodyguard. When I give you the signal, I want you to quickly move on Boris. Ready…? Set…" A long pause. From outside of the car, Conner faintly heard screeching tires. Dawn's voice grew excited. "Now!"

Cooper pushed down on the plastic latch, pushing the backrest of the rear seats down. He quickly crawled forward into the main section of the car and reached forward, using the gun to strike the rearview mirror. He then brought the gun to the right side of the driver's neck and said, "Make your next right, then your next left, keep your eyes on the road." Then he lowered the weapon, keeping it pressed against the man's hip so that it wouldn't be visible to passing traffic. "Don't speak, Boris – just make a right then a left. You're going to be a little late for Dinner, tonight. If you don't cooperate, and if I deem your behavior inappropriate, I'll cut my losses and you won't be going home. If you work with me, and if you remain useful… you get to walk away when this is all over."

Boris simply nodded and turned right at the next intersection. He was an aristocratic looking lynx with bright golden eyes. His shirt collar was open to allow for the bow-tie looking tuft of black-bar fur. He also sported a fancy collection of fine hairs at the tips of his ears. He turned left and shifted out of the sports-shifter setting. He put the vehicle into automatic drive transmission mode then placed both of his paws on the wheel.

"You're doing good, Boris. Until we get to somewhere that's safe to talk, you can call me C.C., all right? So, let's get to know one another – I can't expect you to cooperate with me if you know nothing about me. Let's start with you, first. How was your day at work?"

"It was uneventful."

"See, I saw all the cops show up at your place, so I know you're lying to me." Conner's voice grew stern. "That's not a good way to start things out, Boris. Let's start over. How was your day at work?"

"I sat in the vault, surrounded by my guards. I spoke to police and gave a statement. I told my public relations manager to call the insurance company. I looked for my keys and got into my car. I call that _uneventful_. Now that I'm out of work, I have a gun pointed at me. I call that _eventful_. Why do you want to go somewhere safe?"

Conner shifted his weight to get comfortable. "So we can talk in private without your buddies. Do you own any banks? You're a big-time casino owner who has done very well for himself – surely you own some banks."

"I own three banks. Where to?"

"Stay straight until I tell you where next to turn," replied the raccoon. "Okay, my turn again… have you been in international trouble lately? If so, maybe I can help you to an extent."

"I have International law enforcement badgering me about my ties to a wanted man, nothing more. He's a rich collector and no one knows very much about him except that he's wealthy enough to keep people away from him and his fancy little house under the ocean."

"Interesting. What happened the last time you spoke to the person who was badgering you?"

"I told her to go to America for answers. I take it you want information on his whereabouts, too? Why don't you take this up with the CIA, like everyone else?"

"I'd rather ask you. That was two questions, by the way. But I'll be nice and answer both… I don't want information on this person's whereabouts. I want to know what you told the International investigators."

Dawn's voice returned to the earpiece. "Easy, Conner. Don't get too far ahead of yourself. Although, I admit, you're giving him disinformation that will cause him to assume you work for this person in the 'underwater house' which is good. Make a right at the end of the road and drive four miles. On the right-hand side is an old factory. Have him drive through the gate – it's rusty and will give easily. From there, have him pull through the guard shack and into the main loading bay of the tertiary plant. Make him get out of the car slowly, hands raised, fingers interlocked above his head then get down on his knees and await further instruction."

Conner redirected his attention back to Boris who was in the middle of speaking. "…She was ill-tempered but attractive for her age. Her and her partner had come from the test site in the mountains. It's an abandoned town, off limits to everyone. Apparently, Artimus Crowell was murdered and they found him shortly after he was killed. Artimus was in league with the man who is living under the ocean, helping him to obtain rare artifacts in exchange for scientific funding. With Artimus dead, the Interpol cop needed a new lead and came knocking on _my_ door. All I do is train his personal security guards before deploying them to the bubble beneath the ocean. What's any of this matter?"

"Why haven't I heard about this aquatic house?"

"It's a government controlled secret," said Boris with a shrug. "If you don't work for them, and if you're not here to kill me for snitching, then who the hell are you?"

"A third-party, interested in Artimus Crowell's business partner. What does this guy want with the rare artifacts?"

"Hell if I know – maybe he's a hermit who wants to surround himself in fancy bullsh-"

Conner interrupted him. "Make a right at the end of the road and drive about four miles. You'll see an abandoned factory at the edge of town – I want you to enter the premises, drive passed the guardhouse and head towards the third wing of the plant. There will be an open bay – drive inside, turn off your car and we'll go from there. If you do anything stupid, I'll find another route and cut you off permanently."

"I'm your only remaining tie."

"No, Interpol is my remaining tie, you idiot. If I want answers, I'll track down the agents who harassed you."

"You don't even know what they look like."

Conner jabbed the gun against the man's hip. "Last week, when you talked to them at the ATM, that picture went to the news. I'm assuming you have ties to that bank because the photo was released to the public with a blur over your face, isn't that right?"

Dawn's voice came back over the phone, sounding anxious. "Don't give him too much information! You have to play stupid, sometimes! You're selling yourself short, Cooper!"

However, Conner's plan worked. The lynx shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, "You're right – that's my bank and she approached me. I told her I needed to check my bank status and would keep my back to her. I knew the camera would photograph me and, of course, her because she was _behind_ me. I came to learn that she'd been missing in action for quite some time, leading me to wonder if she's gone rogue. I turned the picture to the public to see if I could blow her cover and was dismayed when Interpol lied, telling the public she was on vacation. Somehow, the photo-shopped image was blurrier than intended and her gun isn't visible in the edited version."

"No question for me this time, huh?" Conner chuckled then asked, "You said you sent them to America… why?"

"I told that inspector the truth on how to find the submerged Atlantis Dome building. It's somewhat mobile so they can move its location but right now it's in the tropics and for some reason he has some sort of connection to the CIA. They help keep his operation a secret from everyone. The man who knows his location is an African hyena named Tyrell Antoine Jones. He's an ex-CIA agent living in Miami, with a faux travel agency business located in Fort Lauderdale. He's the direct contact for the man you and the inspector currently seek. Now, I've told you everything without the need to meet in private. We no longer need to go to your special 'location'."

"You're right in part – you've told me everything I need to know. So this is what we're going to do…" Conner jabbed the gun against the feline's hip again. "Pull into the factory anyway. I'm going to get out of your car and you're going to look the other way, _then_ we'll part ways."

As if on cue, Boris eased to the right and drove his fancy car through the old chain-link fence, muttering about his insurance company deductable. As soon as he pulled through the guardhouse, Conner said, "Put your foot on the break." The man complied then Cooper placed his free paw on the man's shoulders, pressing down against a pressure point at the base of his neck. Boris struggled for a moment.

After a few seconds, his body went numb and movement became a chore. Conner ducked his head down and hunched his shoulders up, covering his right ear. He used his left paw to cover his left ear then aimed the weapon into the dash panel and fired. All six airbags deployed and the car stalled. The steering wheel airbag struck Boris in the face at a high rate of speed, rendering the lynx unconscious from the blow. Conner reached up and shifted the car into 'park', pulled up the parking brake then opened the rear door and wiggled out through the curtain airbags that lined the doorway. He shot out all four tires then walked towards the empty bay of the smallest wing of the abandoned factory.

Inside, the Honda Accord was running, Keri was behind the wheel. She put the window down and said, "Leave the gun out by his car."

Conner got in and put his window down. "Cool, drive by it and I'll toss it at the beamer. Let's get back to the hotel. Do you still have the money in the trunk?"

"Heck no, I'm not an amateur." She gave him a smile and said, "It's with Dawn and DJ. I have bad news, though…"

Dawn's voice came over the phone, into Conner's ear. "Hon, the cops somehow followed the BMW. They're coming up the road, now. You guys need to get out of there, quick. There's a back entrance that dumps out onto an old dirt road. Take that."

"Get us out of here, there's a dirt road behind this place."

"That's the bad news," said Keri. "One of the casino guys is parked by the gate, waiting for us to leave. I saw him pull up while I was hiding here. Somehow, that guy must have reached into his pocket and called one of his boys, who was able to hear the conversation. He arrived a few seconds before the BMW and he looks armed."

"So we should _keep_ the gun, right?"

"No," said Keri. "Trust me, ditch it here. I've got a silenced weapon here. Where's your cane?"

Conner slapped himself in the forehead. "In the BMW trunk; _thank_ you! Dammit, I'm not as responsible as I thought I was. Take us over to the beamer, I'll get it."

The Accord came up alongside the silent fancy vehicle. He hopped out, opened the driver door and reached in by Boris' knee and pressed the trunk release button. He tossed the gun into the man's lap then walked around behind the beamer and retrieved his cane. He took out the apple core and brought it with him then got back into the Accord, putting the cane in the back seat. "Okay, let's get out of here. We're going to America. Feel free to come along for the ride."

Keri offered a slight grin. "We'll discuss it – let me talk to my sister, first." She cut the wheel and turned towards the back end of the complex and floored the accelerator. "It's a good thing the gate is already open – I'd hate to mess up Dawn's car." She eased off the gas pedal just before reaching the gates then cut the wheel right and pulled up on the parking brake. The back end began to fishtail and a steady, rhythmic tone chimed from having the brake engaged. She used her left paw to _throw_ the wheel to the left then jerked it back to the right just a little, sliding sideways through the open gate. "Head down!"

Gunshots rang out from somewhere behind the sliding Accord. She evened out the wheel and stomped the gas, leaving a dusty cloud of dirt in her wake. "God-freakin'-damn front-wheel drive piece of crap," she muttered, hunching over the wheel as if it would somehow make her go faster. "C'mon…" The wheels gained purchase on the dirt road and the car began to accelerate. The engine automatically shifted up into the next gear, causing the mechanical whine to lower in pitch.

"You drive like Sergei," he commented, mostly to himself.

"I'm older, so if anything… he drives like _me_, not the other way around." She tugged up on the parking brake again, causing the back wheels to lock. She abruptly put the brake bar back down then glanced in the rearview mirror, proud of her smoke-screen trick. Another miasma of dust plumed out behind the car, making it difficult to see the Honda's escape.

"Dawn are you still there?"

"Yeah… how's my car?"

"You might need new tires soon, else it's in good shape." Conner glanced over his shoulder then said, "I think we shook him…"

"I expect to see his car emerge from the dust cloud any second," said Keri. "If he does, there's a silenced micro-Uzi in the door pocket. I want you to shoot at his wheels. They're big dark targets and easier to hit than the driver or anything else that's important."

"Nothing yet," said Conner. "Where do you want us to go, Dawn?"

"Just get out of there, first. We'll worry about the finer details later on."

Just as Keri predicted, a black sedan broke from the dust cloud. Conner reached for the door pocket, finding _two_ silenced micro-Uzi guns. He blinked and took them into his paws, checking them for the location of their safety toggle switches. Wielding akimbo Uzis, he pointed them out the window and squeezed on both triggers at the same time.

"No, Greenhorn," said Keri. "Shoot a few rounds of one then a small burst of rounds from the other. It's easier to control and aim."

Small pillars of dust sprung up out of the dirt path between the two moving vehicles. Conner squeezed off a few rounds from the right gun then the left. A few of those rounds struck against the sedan's front quarter panel with a loud metallic volley of _thunking_ sounds.

"Wheels!" she cried.

"Right!" He aimed the left gun out the window a little further than the right and tapped the trigger. The small gun bucked slightly in his paws. Five or six rounds sprayed from the barrel. The first one struck the dirt road, spewing another pillar of dust that quickly disappeared in the distance from their speed. The next round struck the alloy wheels, creating an array of sparks. The next several rounds left more small holes in the quarter panel. "Keep it steady, I'm close!" He fired again, creating another shower of sparks on the front driver-side wheel.

Keri's ear flickered, hearing the black sedan gun its motor. "He's trying to pass us to get an advantage."

Conner drew the left Uzi back then pushed the right one forward and mashed the trigger down for a second or two. A barrage of bullets, over ten in total, gushed from the extended silencer barrel. One of the rounds successfully struck the front tire. With the weapon bucking in his hand, one of the rounds struck his window, causing a brilliant spider web to appear on his windshield. Conner blinked. "I thought he'd loose control of the car and flip over after I shot out his tire!"

"This isn't Hollywood!" she exclaimed in reply. "He's pulling out a gun – it looks like a Glock, maybe a model seventeen – I can't tell from this angle."

"I see it," he muttered in return. "Why shoot out a tire if it doesn't do anything?"

"It won't do anything if he's driving straight," she said then snorted in disdain. "Now that its out, let me show you something." She swerved to the right, bringing the Honda much closer to the black car. The man jerked the wheel away from her to compensate. As soon as he cut the wheel to the right, he lost traction in the gravel from having one less tire. His car spun out, creating its very own impressive-sized dust storm.

Keri stomped on the accelerator again. "Put the safety on. Pull both magazines and combine the bullets into one and reload it into one of those things. Just in case. And put your damn _seatbelt_ on, will you?"

He took the magazine and the chambered bullet out of one Uzi and removed the magazine for the other, combining them into one supply of small bullets. The female tigress reached over and slugged him in the arm. "I _said_ put on your seatbelt. I know you're young but don't give me a reason to feel like I'm babysitting you."

"I was in a car accident the other day," Conner said to her while working bullets from one metal container and transferring them to the other until it was nearly full. "He struck a wall at full speed. I flew through the car and landed on the dashboard. But he died, belted into the driver's seat. I'd rather be ejected than trapped in the chair."

"All right, okay – just…" she paused, shook her head and told him, "Stay low. Good job on shooting out his front tire. You did good."

The raccoon swallowed and, in a softer voice, said, "Thanks. I appreciate the compliment." He replaced the magazine back into one of the Uzis then put the empty one back into the other, stashing it in the door pocket. He then put up the passenger window and leaned back in the seat of the Accord. Feeling safer than before, he reached for the buckle of the belt and pulled it over himself. He fastened the clasp then folded his paws across his chest. "I've got to go to Miami, Florida. My parents are there; it's the best lead I've had to date. I need to call my sister," he added at the very end with a soft sigh. "Thanks again for not letting me forget my cane."

The tigress offered him a shrug. "Apparently you had other things on your mind, like finding your folks." She checked her mirrors then told him, "Relax. It's all over, now. The cops will find those two guys, see they have guns on them and hold them for investigation. By the time they're ready to focus their attention on looking for a young raccoon teenager, you'll be out of the country. Let's meet up with everyone – they switched to a new hotel nowhere near the casino."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

**The motel was just outside of town.** Unfortunately for the group, there were only two available rooms. One had two beds; the other had one king-sized bed. After drawing straws, Surge and Javari opted to take a full-sized mattress in the same room as Keri and DJ, who also shared a full-sized mattress. This left Conner and Dawn to share the king mattress in the other room.

However, the motel had solid Wi-Fi Internet service, allowing Dawn to get online. She used a pre-paid Visa gift card to purchase airline tickets on the net. Once finished, she turned to Conner. "Do you think Javari and Surge are going to stay with the group once we get to America? They initially sounded as though they wanted to strike out and start a fresh new life by heading over there."

"Beats me."

She shrugged and said, "Well, their passports are probably flagged, anyhow. I had to hack them so that the passports wouldn't cause them to get arrested at the airport or anything like that… they'll get delayed but that's about all."

He quirked a brow. "You can hack a passport? How? I thought it was hardware related – there are microchips sealed in some sort of waterproof blister pack inside the passport. It's not supposed to be hackable."

"I hit the passport with a hammer, Conner. No more chip. If anything, they'll get a minor delay at the airport upon arrival. American customs will pull them aside and demand to talk to them in a personal interview. They simply explain that the passports were both in _her_ purse together during travel, which caused them to get knocked around in storage before leaving Russia. They'll check out and America will let those two on their way. I hammer-hacked the passports, so everything is fine."

He blinked, impressed with her. A grin tugged at the corner of his muzzle and he turned towards the female raccoon. "So, here we are sharing a bed together and it's only been a matter of days. I can't complain. But I wanted to remind you that you still have to make good on your promise – after all, we're all safe and have the money."

She froze then a blush tinted her cheeks through the strands of her fur from the rush of blood-flow in her body. "Oh, uh… Right – that kiss." She was sober this evening. At least before, when he kissed her last night, she was a little bit drunk. Now she was nervous about kissing him. "I, uhm… It would be easier if you, uh…" She placed a paw in her hair, sifting her fingers back through the dark locks.

"You…what?" Conner tilted his head. "You want me to stay on the floor tonight so that we… _**I**_ don't get the urge to do anything foolish, too soon?"

She shook her head and closed her laptop. "No, I was going to say that it would be much easier if _you_ made the first move."

He blinked then chuckled in spite of himself. "Well, the floor thing is still up for offer. I know we've only been friends for a few days but I really feel a connection with you."

"Yeah, well… we'll eyeball the floor thing, okay? You're right, there is no use rushing into things just yet. That wouldn't be prudent or whatever."

He nodded in reply then sat up on the mattress, psyching himself up for the moment. He placed his paw atop of hers and closed his fingers around her smaller hand with a reassuring smile. This is exactly where he wanted things to go… forward. For the time being, everything else faded away. His missing family became a secondary concern, all the objectives he had for the group took backseat. Conner leaned forward…

Again, like last time, there was no cliché spoiler. His lips met against hers and he placed his free paw against her cheek, cupping the side of her face. He broke the momentary joining but remained close, only an inch away. "Was that good enough or am I allowed to be greedy?"

Again, the male raccoon leaned forward, bridging the gap by eighty percent of the way; he then paused. Dawn whispered in a hushed tone. "Just… kiss me, you fool." She leaned up the other twenty percent of the way and their muzzles met again. This time, the kiss was feverishly passionate. She felt as though his lips were consuming her from the inside out; her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Dawn's paws lifted, taking him by either side of his face.

Conner drew her into an embrace, placing his palms flat against her back. Everything felt right. It felt natural. He did the first instinctive thing that came to him… he hooked one arm around the back of her neck and gently guided her down onto her back, still kissing her.

In reply, her paws moved away from his face. Her arms coiled around him and she clutched the back of his shirt, drawing him to her. He moved with her, upon her, like a personalized blanket and she clung to him like a child to a dream. Without so much as thinking her actions through, she draped one leg around him, resting the backside of her calf against his rump. Neither was mature enough to comprehend the depth and complexity of such a moment yet both were held hostage by their hormones and desires. Things were wildly spiraling out of control and both lusted for this moment to play out to a grand conclusion.

Some hidden part of her longed for the sensational bliss of rapture and ecstasy. An ache, deep within her, gnawed away from the inside out demanding to be sated. Equally, the slightly younger teen burned from within to experience a passionate night of mating her. Both struggled to control their urges and, for the moment, failed miserably at realizing any such control.

She lifted her head to break the kiss so as to gasp. Her heart pounded and she panted for oxygen to feed her aching body. With her head lifted and neck exposed, it became an invitation to Conner and he began nipping at her jaw line, working his lips down over her neck. Dawn squirmed beneath him, writhing sensually from the satisfying sensation of their bodies pressed flush to one another. She lifted a paw and gripped the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair and clinging to him in desperate need and unspoken devotion.

Growing flustered yet wild with a physical hunger, Cooper continued to nibble his way down her neck to her collarbone, at the collar of her blouse. He expelled hot air with heavy breaths against her neck, which caused her fur to stand on end from the attention. She arched her back, pushing her torso against him, sandwiched beneath his body and the mattress.

Her senses were on fire. The smallest brush of fabric from the blankets bunched beneath her was enough to cause a shudder. The shiver raced up her spine then tingled its way back down. She curled her toes and tensed up beneath him, wildly affected by his touch and sensuality. In that moment, she forgot about his age, the loss of her computers and her home, let alone her identity. Everything faded away and he became her entire world.

A third voice called out from across the room. "Jesus, that's _all we need_ is for _kids_ to be having _kids_. If you two are going to get that friendly, at least put a "DO NOT DISTURB" sign on your door and lock it." The voice belonged to DJ. At twenty-two years old, she carried herself as the mature one, often assumed by others to be in her thirties. "I talked to Keri about this '_going to America_' bit and wanted to get the inside scoop."

The very sound of her voice caused both Conner and Dawn to freak. Their fur fluffed up from being startled. They both pushed away from one another, as if ashamed of their actions. They sat up and squinted at the 'den mother' tigress who stood across the small room with her arms folded. Dawn glared at the floor and Conner tucked his tail between his knees and ran his fingers back through his hair, gazing off to the left of where DJ stood. "It's not what it looked like."

"What, sex?" DJ smirked. "No, you're right – it didn't look like that because neither of you was ripping off the other one's clothes… yet. Something tells me it was about to go in that direction, though. No, seriously, though… It _looked like making out_."

He swallowed back a semblance of inner shame. He knew his actions were not becoming of a professional. "Okay, it _is_ what it looked like. But that's our personal business. We don't need to be chastised for kissing."

"Hon…" DJ shook her head and moved towards the two teenagers on the bed. She sat down at the edge of the mattress and reached out, placing one paw on Dawn's ankle, and her other on Conner's foot. "A few hundred years ago, a fourteen year old was the master of his own household. The family might have traded land for their offspring in some sort of arranged marriage but upbringing was different back in those days. He was expected to take the girl as his wife, have babies and work the farm to support himself. Times are different and we're socially not at the same maturity level as our ancestors. My great, great, great grandfather was thirteen when he married. He had twin daughters by fourteen and a son at sixteen. He plowed fields with a push plow and maintained livestock. Times are different – you two are _kids_. And kids should NOT be having kids."

"Give it a rest," said Dawn with a bashful look upon her face. "He's still a virgin – I've not stolen that from him; I'm not some sort of hussy."

DJ stared at her for a moment then chuckled. "I've not heard _hussy_ in ages. Look…" she lifted her paws and told them, "You two have good chemistry. The way I see it, you two are going to wind up '_doing it_' with one another at some point. But let's be _smart_ about it, okay? You guys need to wait. Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder. When you two are _very_ fond of one another, you'll know when it's time. I'm not going to lecture you guys anymore. Just do me a favor and lock your door… and use the 'Do Not Disturb' sign; it's there for a reason. And, if you're not going to wait on the whole 'going further' thing, use sense and get protection."

Conner tilted his head, looking up at the older girl. "Doing all of that would imply that what just happened was planned."

"He's right," added the female raccoon. "It just happened on impulse."

"I've seen passion like that before," said DJ with a shake of her head. "If I didn't walk in here, you guys wouldn't have _stopped_ until you _popped_. I think it's sweet that you guys feel such a strong physical connection. I also think you two should be responsible about it. Now… back to my question. What's this whole thing about America?"

Dawn gestured to Conner to explain, folding her arms and looking down at the floor.

Cooper glanced from Dawn to Debbie Jean and drew in a deep breath to calm his pounding heart. "The guy from the casino recently went head to head against my mother who is missing. My father is with my mother and neither have been able to contact me since November. It was a complete fluke – maybe it was fate… I had no idea there was a connection; we went in that casino to case the joint then take their cash. But there he was… the last known person to have come face to face with my missing family. So, I put a gun to him and pumped him for information."

DJ nodded, bringing a paw to her chin. "And now you want to pursue them. What's your lead?"

"They're in Miami looking for some guy who has ties to this weird hermit who is collecting ultra-rare things from all over the globe. Several of his connections with the outside world have wound up dead. My parents are going after him for some reason or another. I'm afraid if they get in too deep, they'll wind up dead, too. Dawn and I have plans to pursue them. Sergei and Javari were talking about going to America so we're working on a way to get them there safely. We planned on inviting you and your sister once we cleared up the small details."

"Why wait that long?" asked the feline.

"Because it's unprofessional to come and ask you to travel that far when we don't know how much it would cost, check our digital tracks to make sure no one is trying to shadow us and all that stuff."

"And you guys were in here, just now, _discussing_ our wellbeing; preparing for a professional, business-like manner to present to my sister and I?"

"No need to be sarcastic," returned Dawn. Both she and Conner glanced back at DJ expectantly.

"All you had to say was, "_It's too soon to ask – we need to sleep on that sort of thing, first_." I would have been satisfied with that."

Conner waved his paws forward in a reassuring mannerism. "You worded it better than I could have. We wanted to weigh our options and think about the situation and just relax before bringing it up to _anyone_. Yeah, Keri heard me talking about it in the car earlier… I wanted to sit down with everyone tomorrow when we're all well rested and relaxed. I'm sorry if you don't approve of our method we've chosen to relax and unwind. Again, it was unintentional to begin with."

DJ lifted her paws and put them into the air defensively. "Hold on there, buckaroo. I told you I'm cool with you guys making out – I just wanted to make sure you two weren't about to be another cliché stereotype: Children having children. I'm just offering you guys the voice of reason because I respect you two. If I didn't give a damn, I'd have walked back out of the room, shut and locked your door for you and took my share of money then bailed. Let's not make this complicated… you two were hooking up and that's cool. I'm just advising you guys to cool your jets and slow down. I mean, you probably can't even make it one day through the test without slipping up."

Dawn was still defensive and embarrassed. "Yeah? Well, thank you. Duly noted. And …what's the _test_?"

"Cool." DJ stood up and folded her arms. "If you guys can make it through taking a shower together without jumping one another's bones… you'll have learned respect for one another's body. It's as simple as that and harder than it sounds because you have to maintain control of yourselves. Cool, yeah? I mean, it's very sweet to stand together in that way with your lover and to _not_ make sex a priority. If you guys feel tempted to jump one another just because you're naked together… there is no respect, only lust. Now." She unfolded then refolded her arms the other way. "What's this bit about America? When would we be leaving?"

"As soon as possible." Conner sat up more then grabbed a blanket and pulled it onto his lap so as to conceal the arousal that tented his trousers from his previous interaction with Dawn. "It gets us far away from the scene of our last crime, so far as I'm concerned."

"Fair enough." DJ offered them a reassuring smile. "Keri and I would be honored to go with you guys to America if you need our help. Our pirating outfit is now retired indefinitely and despite your ages, you're both competent coworkers. You both have a skill set that stands out. My only suggestion is that, for tonight, we pair up a girl's room and a boy's room. If anything gets too heated then falls apart due to lack of relationship experience… everyone is screwed. We can't operate this little shindig if you guys break up and start fighting. So, let's cool off and take a bath or a shower or whatever… get it out of your system together… and in an hour or so, I'll send Sergei over here. Dawn you'll come over and take his place."

Dawn glanced at Conner in silence. He looked from her back to DJ and licked his dry lips. "Give us some time to think it over. We'll let you know in an hour or so. No promises."

DJ nodded and turned back for the door. Conner coughed into his paw then added, "Oh, and thanks for offering to go with us. We're glad to have your help. We both really appreciate it."

"No problems. You guys are hard workers. Graceful under fire. That's cool with me." She lifted a paw and half-waved to them, making her way for the door. "Trust me… both of you go and shower off your affections together. If you two can remain in control while in there naked together… you'll have proven to one another that '_the next step_' is worth the wait. Make it a test, or whatever. If one of you thinks you won't be able to pull it off, you'd better do the room switch _right now_."

"Thanks for the advice," Conner said. He slid out of bed and followed DJ to the door. Once she stepped outside, he put the '_Do Not Disturb_' sign on the table by the front wall, just in case, and then closed the door. He turned back to Dawn and said, "Now where were we?"

The female raccoon bit her lip then smiled shyly. "Headed to the shower?"

Cooper blushed brightly with excitement. "Really? You wanna' take the challenge? I'm game."

'Some of what she said made sense," said Dawn. "I don't mind kissing you again – I really liked it. But let's try to keep things innocent in the shower. It'll prove to one another that we respect each other's body and _commitment_ to wait until the _right_ time." She slid off the bed and offered a paw to him. "So… What do you say to that?"

He took her paw into his. "So this is official, then? We're going to refer to our official status together as being_ in a relationship_?"

"We've rushed into it, but it seems to really fit us." She paused then offered him a very slight hint of a feminine giggle. "Don't you think?"

"I wouldn't want to kiss anyone else, hon." His eyes lowered then lifted, looking her over. "Do you prefer me to call you Rachel?"

"I, uh…" She gave his paw a gentle squeeze. "No, Conner – Dawn is _fine_. I …think the name is starting to grow on me." She leaned up and kissed the side of his muzzle at the corner of his lips. "I'm nervous; I've only been _fully_ nude with one boy before and things went sour a few days later. But I'm willing to try her suggestion because her advice really made sense to me."

"I'm ready, too." He opened the bathroom door for her and took three towels from the closet. One for himself, one for her long hair and one for her body. "I'm not going to deny it… I didn't expect to get you undressed so soon… I'm extremely excited about this. And nervous, but… I'm excited."

Seeing that she had such an affect on him gave her courage. "Yeah? What's the matter, never seen a girl naked before? In person?"

"No." His blunt, concise reply shocked her.

"No? Seriously?"

"We talked about this already." Conner offered a nervous chuckle and told her, "I'm really taken with you. Smitten, or whatever you want to call it. Enamored, if you will. I just like you… a lot. We don't have to take a shower naked or whatever it is that DJ suggested. If you'll feel more comfortable, we can hold off on that for another time. I really like you with _or_ without clothes on."

Dawn turned to him, took the towels from him and placed them on the sink counter. She placed her paws upon his face and smiled brightly. "_That_ was the _real_ test. And you passed it. DJ and I had talked about this earlier, while you were at the casino on the job. I muted the phone and talked to her about you. She said she'd come in and suggest that we do something naughty in a sense… and the _real_ test would be how you reacted to it. She told me to act like I'm a little shy about taking off my clothes in front of you…"

The female teenager sat down on the closed toilet seat lid. "She told me that if you offered to skip showering together, it would show that you cared about my feelings and our budding relationship more than you care about your penis."

"And what happens for passing the test? You consent to being my girlfriend?"

Dawn smiled brightly and laughed. "No, I already _want_ to be your girlfriend, Conner. Because you passed the test, I consent to taking a shower with my new boyfriend." She grinned at him and stood up slowly. Her thumbs slid behind herself and she unfastened a zipper at the back of her pants. They dropped down her legs and pooled at her ankles. She stood before him in revealing panties. "I hope you like the water _hot_."

"Make it as hot as you can stand it," said Conner, growing excited all over again.

* * *

**Sergei Gurlukovich** stepped back, looking in the mirror. He wore high-waist, wide-legged, tight-cuffedpegged trousers and a long coat with wide lapels. It had thickly padded shoulders that puffed up. Upon the coyote's brow, he wore a large felt hat with a long feather and pointy-toed shoes.

"Cute," said Javari, sitting on the bed with Keri. She leaned back and put her head on the Tigress' tummy, using Keri as a pillow. "The pinstripes make you look like a gangster."

In his thick Russian dialect, he paraphrased Malcolm X, exclaiming, "I'm lookin' good in this Zoot suit. Check out my killer-diller coat with a drape shape, reet pleats and, oh, those shoulders padded like a lunatic's cell, daddy-o!" His statement sounded rather ridiculous in his accent. He then turned to the girls and pointed at the fancy pointed shoes. "My roach-in-the-corner-killers, they be stylin'."

"Really," Keri mused with a smirk. "It looks to me like your style was borrowed half from the thirties, half from the fifties, and the shoes come right out of the jive-central eighties." She put a finger to her maw and tapped a fingernail against the lower lip. "You're missing something… hmm."

Javari snapped her fingers with a loud click. "A pocket watch!"

"With a long chain," added Tiikeri with a snicker. "That's exactly what he needs… a pocket watch. Oh! And a colored handkerchief in the front pocket of the blazer."

"Oh, definitely." Keri folded her paws, placing them atop of Javari's head. "Ahma and I think you also need to grease your hair back then comb the front up into a ducktail. What's the occasion, Surge?"

"No, babes, not the hair… it would interfere with the _hat_, ladies!" He tipped the brim to them and said, "I'm taking Javari out on the town tonight. A last good Russian date before we leave this area and move on. I know a great place in town."

"I heard we're going to America next." Keri grinned, knowing it would get them excited.

"Really!" Javari sat up and looked back at her friend then cut her gaze over at Sergei. "I hope it's true; if so I can't wait!"

"That sounds killer-diller, daddy-o."

Keri face-palmed. "You've already said that, Surge. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. It's right from Conner's mouth. I wouldn't mind seeing Florida. Miami, to be exact."

"Miami beach!" Javari grinned broadly. "I need to loose some weight and pick up a swim suit."

"You look _fine_ just as you are," returned Sergei. "Go get dolled up, yes? We'll go out when you're ready, Lady."

The wolverine slid off the bed, grinned at Keri and shrugged then walked into the bathroom to get herself ready. This left the tigress and coyote alone.

"You really do look ridiculous."

Sergei grinned. "I 'vill take that as a compliment, _pirate_."

"Arh," she said, covering one eye with a paw. "It's the fashion police for you, mate! You scallywag, get your tail off my deck 'afore I make you walk the plank, land lover."

"And you are, be, calling _me_ ridiculous."

"Take out the _be_, and you've got it right. Listen, Surge… she's a nice girl. Kaza treated her like crap behind closed doors – so if I find out you ever treat her that same way… I'm a tiger, you're a coyote; it wouldn't take Javari to do that kind of math: I'd flatten you. Just remember that."

He snapped both of his index fingers then pointed at her as if holding two pistols. "You got it, sister." Again, his phrasing sounded off kilter with the dialect he used. "You're just jealous of my Zoot suit." He used his extended thumbs to flip up his large collar lapels.

"God, you figured me out." She slid off the bed and headed for the door just as DJ came into the room. "Deej! Good timing! Hey, let's go for a walk. Those two need a few minutes to get ready."

"Sounds good to me," replied the twin tigress. "I could use a cigarette. It calms the nerves and brings me some peace for five minutes."

"I thought you quit," replied Keri.

Debbie Jean grinned. "Almost… just one every once in a while. Let's go. There's too many love birds around here, right now."

"You ain't lyin', girl." Keri opened the door back up for her sister and then closed it behind them, heading out into the motel parking lot. DJ took a cigarette out of a near-empty pack from her pocket and put it into her maw while Keri fished out a lighter and lit it for her twin, cupping her paw over her sister's face to protect the flame from a light breeze.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

**Soapy suds spilled down Dawn's back** between her shoulder blades. Conner pressed a sponge against the top of her spine, the water trickled down her back and collected at the hilt of her tail. He dragged the sponge downward to the small of her back then started over, repeating the motion.

He pondered what Thaddeus Cooper would have done differently and surmised that his ancestor would have probably trailed tiny kisses down her spine, following the sponge. He wasn't quite confident enough in himself to try it just yet. Instead, he took the sponge for another trip down her body, starting at the nape of her neck and ending just above the base of her tail. The sopping tip of her ringless tail brushed against his thighs, causing him to shiver. He lifted the sponge again for another pass.

Afterwards, she turned to face him and leaned up to kiss him softly. Again, she temporarily forgot he was two years younger than her. Everything else in the world melted away. Dawn offered him a soft smile then reached for the shampoo and put a glob into her paws. She reached up and placed her fingers into his hair, firmly lathering his locks of clumped wet fur strands. "You did good, today."

"I couldn't have done very much without your help and guidance. Listen, Dawn," he trailed off and placed the sponge on a dish on the wall then put his paws upon her hips. "After all of this blows over, you should come back to France with me."

"If everything works out like it has been, then yes… I would like that." She worked her fingernails against his scalp gently, grinning at the murring sound that emanated from his throat. "I've never been to Paris; I wouldn't mind seeing it. I've heard it's lovely."

"Only if you take the right tour of the city." Conner grinned. "I'll be your guide, then we can do Venice and Rome, London and Madrid, Prague and Bucharest. Where ever you want to go."

"Aren't _you_ romantic for your age." She grinned, once again realizing she was in the shower, nude, with a fourteen year old. The thing was, he carried himself fairly well for his age. Part of her began to ponder the situation. It was only two little years of age difference… She withdrew her paws from his hair and put them upon his chest. "You're actually quite attractive, when you're undressed, Conner." She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Here, step around me and into the water; wash it out before it gets into your eyes."

With his paws upon her hips, he exchanged positions with her, until the hot water cascaded down upon his shoulders. He backed into the stream of water and reached his paws into his hair to work out the shampoo solution. While not paying attention to her, keeping his eyes shut, Dawn took a moment to look him over from top to bottom. She complimented him on his body in silence by nodding in an appraising manner.

"Don't get egotistical about this, but… if this sort of sweet behavior keeps up, you won't be a virgin for very long." She then abruptly changed her tone and added, "But only when _I_ am ready. So don't get any ideas."

"You're worth the wait," said Conner, repeating something he's heard his father tell his mother once or twice, when growing up. Sly would tell Carmelita that very line when she was angry and withheld her affections from him. Now Conner said it in a different context but with genuine meaning, in semblance of his father who always meant what he said to his wife, Conner's mother."

Dawn bit her tongue so as not to titter with emotion. "You need to be like this more often. I feel spoiled," she told him with a smile. "I dated for a while and sometimes sex happened prematurely, but… the fact that you and I can do what we're doing without rushing into things… it's sweet. I really feel like you respect me."

"I do." He stepped forward from the water and rubbed his eyes then opened them. "I'm falling in love with you. I might be young but I know that love feels natural and special. It's easy to love when you've never been sullied in regards to it. I just hope that despite those couple of ex-boyfriends you dated, you'll look inside yourself and give me a real chance."

She smiled and looked downward. "Yeah, I will."

Conner reached for a small demo bottle of liquid soap, provided by the motel. He opened the lid and emptied the contents into his palms then rubbed his paws together and reached for her. Carefully, he explored her body with his palms, covering her in soap. "I never thought I'd have my mitts on the body of the most attractive girl I've ever met. You've got a killer, toned figure. You're soft to the touch and have curves in all the right places. It's one thing to fall in love with someone, it's another thing to fall in love with the girl you lust after and crush over – I'm really lucky."

She placed her paws upon his shoulders to keep them out of his way while he worked his paws upon her body. "You're an absolute angel, sometimes. I'm glad I'm getting to know this side of you."

"Don't take this the wrong way but…" He gazed into her eyes. "I'm trying to think of anything else but what I'm doing. With my paws all over you, like this, I'm really getting turned on and don't want to offend you by standing here at attention."

"You're fine," she replied. "It's a natural reaction, right? At least I know I have some sort of affect on you. Besides, I'm feeling the same way – it's just easier for me to hide that sort of thing from you." She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. "Hurry, though. Get me back under the water – I'm cold."

Conner's slight grin widened into a genuine smile. "No worries." He quickly refocused his attention on her figure, learning every inch of her body by soaping her up with the liquid gel in his palms. He turned her around and worked the concentrated formula into the fur on her back and rump then he knelt down behind her and cupped either side of each leg, as if massaging her every limb with a gentle caress.

"I'm honored to be your girlfriend, Conner." Her sopping wet tail flitted from left to right. Once she could tell he was finished, she turned back around, facing him.

Conner stood up, brushed his lips against hers in return then moved out of the way, letting her step into the water stream. She lifted her paw and scritched her fingers beneath his chin, playfully. She stepped beneath the water and lavished herself in the liquid warmth. "God, this hot water heater must last forever. Some of the apartments I've had didn't last but fifteen minutes at most."

"This isn't the eighties or nineties, you'd think all of them would last this long, now. Feel better?"

She relished the hot water and nodded emphatically. "Yes, much. This is heaven." She lifted her head, facing up into the water. It gave Conner a moment to look her over. He couldn't help but lick his lips. Here he was in the shower with one of the most attractive females he'd ever encountered. To top it all off, she dressed nicely and was a wizard with computers. He really wanted this girl in any and every way imaginable. He lusted her, he desired her and now he loved her. Even after such a short time, he'd fallen for her, deeply. Now he just had to figure out how to cope and live with those feelings when around her.

While keeping her face upwards, in the stream of the shower, she spit out a bit of water and said, "I bet you're eyeing me up. Don't worry; it's okay. I've already done it to you, earlier." She grinned but kept her face up in the spout, as though ignoring him. "And yes," she said, spitting out a bit more water. "I liked what I saw." Finally, she jerked her head down and took a deep breath. "Refreshing."

Looking nervous, he quickly glanced away from her and asked, "Should I go grab the towels?"

"Sure." She reached for his paws and pulled him towards her until he was standing in the water with her. "But first…" She leaned forward and kissed him beneath the warm water, as if they were standing in the rain together. "I just wanted to kiss my new boyfriend." With that, she leaned into the kiss, tilting her head somewhat so that her lips slanted over his in a sensual way.

Taken by surprise, he enveloped her into his arms. She stepped the rest of the way into his embrace and they held one another, lips locked, while water ran down over their faces. She indulged in the sensation of feeling close to him as they kissed. His body was flush to hers and they held one another lovingly, as though in a slow dance, with the showerhead as their spotlight.

There they stayed, huddled together beneath the deliciously warm spout, until the hot water heater ran low. Once the water began to cool, they broke the kiss and turned off the faucet. Conner stepped out first and took a towel from the counter, holding it open to her. She stepped out of the tub and into the towel. He wrapped it around her along with his arms to help dry her off. Next, he reached for another, handing it to her for her hair then grabbed the remaining one for himself. "It's late," he told her. "I'm ready to turn in if you are."

"Did you want to switch rooms like those guys suggested?"

Conner offered her a dubious grin. "I have a better idea." He stepped out of the bathroom, walked to the entrance door to their room, opened it and reached just his paw out into the cold air. He placed the '_Do Not Disturb_' sign on the handle, pulled the door shut then locked it. "Turn up the heater, I'll fluff the pillows and fix the blankets."

"What about getting dressed?"

The sly raccoon boy shrugged with an airy chuckle. "Now that we've both seen each other undressed, why worry about it? We'll save quarters on doing laundry. Go ahead and crank up the heater. I'll get the blankets straightened out." He took them from the end of the bed and lifted them up, quickly, with his arms outstretched. Making the bed and fluffing the pillows, he turned back to her and tossed his towel in the corner by the front door. "So far as what DJ said, earlier… I'm glad she walked in. I wasn't thinking at that moment."

"Neither was I," said Dawn. "She walked in because the act of sex wasn't meant to happen just yet. Her timing was kinda' fateful." She walked away from the window heater, making sure the drapes were drawn to make the room dark. She flipped the light switch then crawled into bed. Conner fixed the blankets around her then slid into bed adjacent to her.

"No one has to know we spent the night together like this."

She grinned wryly in the dark. It went unseen. "Like _this_? You mean without clothes? It's a new fashion statement. _All_ the kids are doing it these days."

"That's a good trend; worth investing in, if you ask me. It shows signs of longevity." He moved over, closer to her and snuggled up against her side. "Sleep well, Dawn." He leaned over in bed and kissed the side of her face.

"You, too, sweetheart. Sleep well." She reciprocated the kiss but upon his lips instead. Then, she said, "Goodnight, Conner." The two grew quiet, lying together, holding one another in silence. They listened to the other's breathing until sleep claimed them both.

* * *

A/N: _I still need to hear from the readers – Surge and Javari or Keri and DJ as the core gang? Or do you guys prefer just having Conner and Dawn, leaving everyone else as secondary? Just curious! I'm starting to lean towards having Conner and Dawn as the primary gang… maybe I can somehow implement Carmen for a heist or two. We'll see. HEY, where are all the female readers? I used to have a RIDICULOUS female following in LAMENT OF CARMELITA. Did you gals get board of the franchise while it's in limbo on a Sucker Punch drawing board or something? HMMM? Okay, guys… what about you? Too mushy? Just mushy enough? Don't worry, there will be more action when they get to America… Also, you'll note that they're trailing Sly and Carmelita who have suddenly decided to go back after the guy who owns the Atlantis dome from SPY COOPER. xD_

_This is probably the most touchy-feely chapter you're going to see from me, posted on FanFiction dot net, to be respectful of their terms of service. It wasn't quite as hot as Chapter 9 from Spy Cooper… "Box Therapy" I called it… But I'd say it's close. _

_:-O_

_WORD!_

-me

:D


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter -11-



* * *

**A resounding knock at the door** awoke everyone in the darkened bedroom. Keri grunted, Javari muttered under her breath and began to stretch a bit. Sergei rolled over, burying his face into the pillow. DJ sat up calmly and looked around the room. There was another knock and she yawned.

The tigress slid out of bed, clad in simplistic yet elegant silk pajamas. Wrinkleless pink pants came all the way to her ankles, the cuffs brushing against the carpeted floor ever so slightly. The plain pink button-up pajama shirt showed the shape of her shoulders well and sloped out to the swell of her breast then dropped straight down, hiding the shape of her lower torso.

She approached the door, gazed into the peephole then opened it. She tilted her head and a weary grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle. Extravagant curls, piled on her shoulders, tumbled down her back, not pinned or put up in any particular way at this hour. DJ came face to face with a slender, fully dressed Conner who looked chipper, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The tigress licked her dry lips and, in a husky voice, said, "You guys locked your door and put up a sign last night." She tilted her head the other way, eyeing him. "You've got some pep in your step this morning… So, you did the deed after all, huh? I hope you two used protection."

"The best protection on the market – we decided to wait. That _doesn't_ mean _nothing_ has changed." She grinned at his use of a double negative. The teenager looked different today to her. His eyes were wider and his chin was higher. His shoulders were broader and his tail was fluffier. This morning, he carried himself more like a man and less like a boy.

Her curious eyes and expression asked all the questions in the world. He lifted a paw in subtle gesture and told her, "We've decided to date, officially, and we're very happy about it. I know I am, that's for sure. We also bought plane tickets for _everyone_ for today's flight to Miami, Florida. It has one connector in London – a short ride, since we're taking a Concorde II. The flight from England to Miami is a conventional aircraft and will take quite some time."

Again, she eyed him suspiciously then she licked the palm of her paw. The mature twin reached out and used her saliva-dampened palm to slick back one of Conner's cowlicks. She shook her head at him and smiled. "Your hair looks like a rooster's ass exploded. Other than that, you look like a new man this morning – that's why I thought you'd done the deed. What time do we depart and why do I think you've planned something for London by the way your eyes are gleaming with mirth?"

"You're perceptive!" The young man offered her a brilliant grin.

"And articulate, prepared, calm and collected, not to mention I'm ready at a moment's notice." Tiikeri drew in a long, slow breath and added, "I'm proud you remained a virgin last night. After all she's gone through, she was ready to lay down with you and I tried to tell her that her emotional state-of-mind wasn't where it _need_ed to be. She's lost too much and undergone too many things in too short of a time – it's one of the most famous subplot tricks in novels and action movies. All this crap happens all at once, the girl is overwhelmed and there's typically a sex scene involved with her and the hero. It's either that or… every female character to hit the big screen of an action sequence film must have been a slut. At any rate, Dawn was in that sort of funk yesterday."

"I… had no idea." He frowned thoughtfully and placed his paw outward, as if offering a handshake. DJ blinked in confusion then took his offered paw. The teenager cleared his throat and said, "I'm glad she could turn to you for advice. Waiting is the best thing we can do for this new relationship."

"You didn't know because of two reasons," replied DJ. "One, you're a guy – I can't expect you to understand. Number two: girls don't typically run into the bedroom and just jump into the sack. That sort of thing only happens because they say the right things, do the wrong things and wind up on their back. If I didn't talk to her while you were out on that heist, I would imagine you'd be confused this morning."

"W…what about?"

DJ folded her arms across her chest, causing the pink silk shirt to bunch up. It offered a hint of her midriff to show. She leaned against the doorway. "If you'd have slept with Dawn last night, you wouldn't have talked things out, which means you probably wouldn't be in an official relationship. Then you'd be questioning yourself about your first time, because you gave your virginity to someone you're not even dating. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you'd be asking yourself… did it mean anything to _her_? Does it make you guys an item now, even though you'd never discussed it? Is _this_ what love is supposed to be, and if not then how does one come to know? There's always more questions, if things go wrong that first time.

"But today, you're full of ego – testicular confidence." She grinned at him, lifted a paw from her folded arms, wrapping the backside of her knuckles against his shoulder. She refolded her arms and continued speaking. "You're radiating and, honestly – from a girl's prospective – you're quite dashing when you're happy and standing tall like this. No, I'm not flirting with you – I'm already in love with someone. I'm just being honest with you. That's why, when someone is light on their feet after an incredible night, they glow. People notice that they're a little different than before and that leads to receiving more attention. That leads to confidence, which has aided in countless high school jocks knocking up countless schoolgirls for ages."

"But you initially thought that her and I did it… So, what you're saying is… I'm glowing because of the confidence and happiness, not the sex then?"

"Duh." DJ's eyes narrowed, offering him a dull glare. "If you're still a virgin this morning, how _could_ you be 'glowing' for _that_ reason."

He paused and, in a quieter tone told her, "There could have been _just_ foreplay or something. Sexual glowing can come from simply getting off, right? Being flushed from blood flow? I mean, even simulating it causes the heart to pound."

She unfolded her forearms and lifted them up and out, as if covering her face in defeat. "Touché." The twenty-two year old woman sighed through her nose. "This is why I could never date someone younger than me, let alone someone as sexually comfortable as yourself… I like the strong silent type. The kind of guy that could break you in half but doesn't because in knowing that women are fragile, he treats them with respect. Err, never mind."

"You think I'm sexually confident?"

She closed her eyes and expelled a slow breath then drew it in through clinched teeth. Then, in a calm voice, told him, "For a virgin. I'm not sure if it's nature or nurture. Either a family of Casanovas raised you or you're in touch with the Casanova blood of a long-line of player-boys. Either way, the way you walk, talk and carry yourself says that you're sexually comfortable and you exude passion. You have charisma and you walk around with your little-boy chest puffed out. This morning, you were a caricature of your normal self, so I assumed you two couldn't get through that 'test'."

"No, we aced it. I told her that despite your suggestion, we didn't need to take a shower together just so we could '_see if we're capable of restraint_'. She told me that's what she needed to hear all along, kicked off her clothes and hopped in the tub. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her but we never lost restraint. And, to answer your earlier question… yes, I have plans for London so I need everyone to get up, wash their face, hair and tail… then get it together. I just wanted to pull a little speed test during our one hour overlay."

DJ eased her finger forward, poking him in the chest. "You treat that girl nicely. You keep it in your pants until _she_ pulls it out _for_ you. Metaphorically, of course. If you have any questions, you come and see me. Knowing you can turn to good advice when in your time of need is vital. Having a support group like that is usually an expectation of the child – he or she wants to know that their parents are the right people to ask about anything. Yours, well… until we find them, you ask me before you go and do anything stupid, okay?"

"We're waiting until _the right time_. Whether it's when I get her a ring, or when we both feel more than just our instincts talking – we've decided to wait. I appreciate your advice up to this point but assure you that I won't suddenly loose control of my body just because I want to get off. If I just relax my mind, it's pretty easy to suppress those urges."

She looked him over again then rubbed her chin. "All those damn fancy moves you supposedly have… you probably meditate don't you?"

"Yeah, a few times a week… but what's that have to do with _anything_?"

"It has everything to do with _everything_. It has to do with your ability to control yourself. Your ability to reflect on your inner actions. I didn't realize it until now – I guess I'm not as perceptive as we both thought, huh? I never took you for a meditation kind-of-guy. I'm impressed."

"If I don't do it every so often, I lose focus." Conner shrugged nonchalantly. "Without focus, I can't do half the things I learned from the Thievius Raccoonus. But honestly, I don't meditate nearly as often as I should."

"That whole 'control of your mind and body' crap probably kept you from rushing into a foolish mistake last night. Good job, kiddo."

"Thanks," he replied softly. "So everyone'll be ready in forty minutes?"

DJ nodded. "See you shortly." She closed the door, turned on the lights to her room and clapped her paws loudly. "Up and at'em, everyone! It's time to make some more money today! Get it together, everyone! We need to get our vitals under the shower faucet, so we don't give away our positions via body odor; I want professional, _clean_ soldiers out on the battlefield, today! Get it together!" She continued clapping her paws while walking through the small room, chanting, "Move _it_, move _it_, move _it_!"

* * *

**"What're you doing?"** asked Conner, kneeling on the mattress behind Dawn. She typed furiously on her laptop, waved her paw then made a gesture above the keyboard to manipulate the images on screen using its integrated virtual mouse. She cracked her knuckles then began typing again.

"Alibis, hon." She never skipped a beat, typing then waving a paw then typing some more. "I've issued date-hacked credit cards to the team. It shows they've had these credit cards but used them seldom over the last few years."

"Why?"

She cleared her throat but never stopped working her keyboard. "When we arrive in America, Sergei took Javari to a movie in Dallas around three in the afternoon _today_. On _her_ credit card, _she_ paid for the snacks about six minutes after the time-and-date stamp of _him_ having paid for the tickets. There will be a _real_ charge on file and when I hack into the theater's database server, I'll add those transactions to the theater's profit sheet. The theater will actually make money for a ticket sale that never got sold at the booth. It's an alibi. Now those two could not possibly be involved in today's future heist. It creates the perfect alibi."

"That's freakin' awesome." Conner grinned and placed his paws on her shoulders, rubbing his palms into either side of her collarbone with a firm touch. "What about Keri and DJ?"

"Keri and Deborah Jean Tiikeri are in Boston and Chicago, respectively. Keri is buying lunch at two in the afternoon today – she gets fast food at seven in the evening and buys thirty-five dollars in gasoline around ten minutes later. She leaves a trail of gasoline purchases down the east coast every three hours. The trail stops around Richmond, Virginia where her credit card shows a charge for staying at a Motel-6 not far from the airport around three or four in the morning, tomorrow.

"DJ buys an energy drink at a convenience store around nine in the morning in Chicago. At around six in the late afternoon, she makes an online purchase of music from a public library then uses the credit card one more time an hour later to place a long distance pay-phone call to a Motel-6 in Richmond, Virginia. If someone is going to trail them, it will be assumed that DJ made hotel reservations for her sisters at around seven in the evening. There won't be a charge – that's for Keri's card. But there _will_ be a reservation hold placed on DJ's card to back up that story, just in case someone wants to examine all the fine details."

The teenage male pulled his paws from her shoulders and eased down on his side, near her. He looked up at her, propping himself up on an elbow. "You're really good at this sort of thing. It sounds like some sort of government cover up."

"It's a good way to stay alive," she said, still typing her fingers furiously against the small notebook keyboard. "Next, I'll have to do something a little more difficult… Once we all arrive in America, I'll need to get into the passport agency's computer and alter the time-date stamps to make it look like those four arrived in the country about a year ago at differing dates, differing times. When we get to Miami, everyone should split up for a few days… take a little vacation."

Cooper tilted his head. "What about _us_."

"No, not us. Keri and DJ will split up, Javari and Sergei will go off together for a little while. You and I will stay in Miami to look for your folks. Then, at the end of the week or something… we can get back together and figure out our next course of action."

"I'm just… _really_ impressed." Conner grinned at his girlfriend then stretched with a yawn. After a moment, he asked, "What's _our_ alibi?"

"We're in town looking for your mom, after receiving an anonymous tip that she and your father went state-side. We arrived in America the day after you came to Russia, according to what the passport agency computers will show when I'm done with them. I've not given _us_ credit cards, because we're both too young. I've altered the Air France records to show that we both flew out of Lyon on your mother's dime. After a double connector, we both showed up in Florida… this will have happened about, oh…" she paused and tapped a lacquered fingernail against her chin. "A week ago – does that sound good?"

"Perfect." He grinned again and looked over the sixteen-year-old girl while her attention was on the monitor. His eyes lifted, watching her facial expressions for a moment before lying back and stretching out. After a short silence, he said, "I'll call my sister and see if she's heard anything."

"Sounds good to me," replied the young lady, returning her boyfriend's grin. She closed the lid of her laptop and leaned towards him until her lips brushed against his own.

He met her kiss firmly, slanting his mouth against her own with fervor. Quite suddenly, Dawn's work was forgotten and she allowed herself to be drawn to him again. It was similar to how they'd woken up this morning, in one another's arms. She recalled that the kissing started as soon as she felt him stir against her body, shortly after sunrise. Now it was happening again. She relished it.

* * *

_A bit later..._

**"Splitting up, huh?"** Javari nodded her head slowly and turned her gaze towards Dawn. "If she can pull off what she says she can, without getting caught for digital forgery then… then we might have a chance. It's worth a shot – it's a good heist and then by hiding out in America, our probability for success increases immeasurably."

The 'less mature' twin sat up and ruffled her hair with her paws. "The word 'immeasurable' coming from the living calculator is a novelty moment – everyone enjoy it while you can." Keri scooted to the edge of the bed then stretched. "What's the credit limit on these cards?"

"Twenty-five hundred bucks." Dawn glanced from Javari back to Keri. "After talking it over, we don't want you guys getting implemented in anything serious. Conner's mother is a cop. If we manage to find the Cooper family members in a day or two, trust me guys… meeting her wouldn't exactly be in anyone's best interest."

"Fair enough." Sergei shrugged. "Let's go over the heist plan for London's crossover flight."

"Yeah, all right – just pay attention, everyone," Conner moved towards Dawn, rubbing his paws together. "Those crooks who own the casino are getting their money laundered illegally from a group of unethical slime balls in London. They operate out of the basement of an undercover brothel that moonlights as a shelter for homeless women. Talk about _sleazy_. These women are exploited because they have nowhere to go and are paid meager wages – their only compensation for a good day's work is three square meals in a day."

Dawn continued where he left off. "Some of these girls have never been given the chance to do better for themselves. Why save up for bigger and better things when they can barely afford liquor, which will at least alleviate the pain of reality going day to day. So we're going to smash the operation and shut down the goons."

Conner picked up in her place. "Then we're going to give these women a reasonable share of the money we take and point them into the direction of the police for witness protection. We take our portion and head to America… all in under an hour."

Javari frowned, glanced to the twins then to Sergei. She cut her gaze back to Conner and Dawn and asked, "Who is to say these girls don't self destruct with that money? They'll go out and buy booze and drugs and get lit up because it's all they know."

Dawn frowned. "It's not our job to hold their hand or be their sponsor in getting their lives together. We're just offering them an opportunity. We open the door, it's up to them to go through. I'll work out a deal with one of them to cover our tracks… I'll try and convince one of them to offer fake details to compose a future fake composite sketch."

"Why would you need that?" asked Keri.

Dawn frowned a second time and her voice lowered somewhat. "Because some of these guys own these women like property. They'll surely have a bent cop on their payroll. If they're losing out on an investment, they'll want that property back. The bent cops will want to know who was involved and ask some of these girls for a composite sketch. We make sure we don't interact with many of these girls. The ones we _do_ talk to, we'll arrange a faux image for them to remember, so that they spread disinformation. It's part of the whole 'cover your tracks' sort of thing."

"Fair enough, I hope it goes as planned." Keri offered a thin smile then added, "So, after we finish playing Robin Hood, we go back to the airport and fly out to the states?"

"Right!" Conner stretched then added, "We'll split up and get back together at a predetermined place and time. Everyone will have to lay low and stay out of trouble so as not to draw any attention. When we get to America we should get us some…"

"…Acquire," interrupted Dawn.

"_Acquire_ some pre-paid phones so we can stay in touch with text messaging – no names, no mentioning anything incriminating. At the very least, we'll use them in case someone gets into major trouble, that way we can act accordingly. They can't be traced easily because there's no billing address or anything like that. Right?" He turned to Dawn.

The female raccoon gave his idea some thought then nodded in reply. "Not a bad idea. So long as no one puts anything incriminating into any of the text messages, we'll be just fine." She reached for her boyfriend's paw and captured it with a slight grin and a wink offered to him.

"Sounds like you two thought this out." DJ slid off her bed and stretched. "I'm convinced." She stood up straight then stretched her midsection by twisting from left to right then back the other way. "Girls? Sergei? Any questions?"

Javari and Keri shook their heads. Sergei said, "Not yet. I'm looking forward to all of these things and saying _das vadanya_ to Russia." He still had his dampened bath towel around his neck, like fluffy shoulder pads. He grasped the fabric over his right shoulder and used it to dry a section of headfur behind his right ear. "Sooner the better – too many recent memories, if you know what I mean."

Javari winced, knowing that he referred to the recent assassination of his father – a hit put out by Mister Gurlukovich's own mafia buddies.

Conner offered a sour expression as well then shook his head slowly. The raccoon slid off the dresser adjacent to the television and Dawn leaned back against the wall, releasing his paw.

Cooper cleared his throat and announced, "You guys have become good friends over the last few days. New Years was awesome, we looked out for one another and everything went really well. Let's pack up and head to the airport. We're all taking the same plane so that Dawn only needs to fudge one set of documents and blur one set of in-flight surveillance footage tapes. When we land in Miami, we'll have enough time for everyone to go to the store, dispense the pre-paid phones… maybe a group hug then we all split up."

"Question." Everyone turned to DJ who asked, "Wouldn't it be more professional and less dangerous if we do the group hugs now and we all go to separate stores to buy these pre-paid phones? Then we can pair off into two groups. We'll exchange numbers with everyone in our group and the group leader will meet with the other group's leader. We exchange numbers on paper, report back to our group then split up and burn the paper evidence. Doesn't that make more sense? You're going through all of these outrageous steps to cover everyone's tracks… why mess it up by letting us be seen hugging one another in public? Or going to a store together, or anything else?"

"She makes good sense," said Sergei. "A simple cell phone camera or a public eye from the wrong person is all it takes – such things can kill your family, even if you disliked that family member to begin with. It's best that we separate right from the plane, which is the riskiest part but… as you said in regards to reducing the footprints that Dawn has to change… taking the same plane is a necessary evil. Once we land, no one should even make eye contact with one another."

Javari placed her paw on his wrist. "What about getting one another's number in our phones?"

Keri lifted a paw. "I saw this in a movie once." She cleared her throat to get their attention and said, "We pick a predetermined place of interest and time, say for example, the Miami Beach boardwalk… we bump into one another and drop something, like a beach towel. Then we both kneel down to collect our belongings and hand one another a small scrap of paper with all the numbers on it. We leave and hand out the numbers to our groups, like Deej suggested and do it just as discretely with preset arrangements made with those in each group."

Dawn waved her paws to grab everyone's attention. "I'm covering our tracks to keep the government off our tails. Who cares if the _American mafia_ groups happen to see us? That's why we're keeping pre-paid phones, just in case we get into trouble. The government and international police forces won't be watching our every step until they start an investigation _here_ and, eventually, those clues lead them to start looking _around_. Which may or may not lead them to America. You guys are being paranoid. It'll take weeks before they even have a clue about anything other than hearing the casino was hit, let alone a brothel, where those people probably handle their own business and hide that sort of thing from mainstream police agencies."

Conner shrugged. "Everyone is right in their own opinion. Those who want to split up and drop below the radar, send a person in to meet up with the rest of us, who aren't trying to go 'super stealth'. Really, we're branching off into four directions – Keri one-way, DJ in another… Sergei and Javari stay as a pair, while Dawn and I make another pair. I mean, if you guys want… we can all meet up on the beach among a throng of other people. We'll never even get anyone's attention if we're all out swimming at the same place at the same time with thousands of others."

"I suppose." DJ gave it some thought then nodded and turned to Javari. "What's our chances of being caught together out on the beach, so long as we don't turn it into 'buddy-fest 2026' while we're out there?"

"It's pretty slim we'll even draw attention if we had a group orgy on the beach at sunset. At least not the attention that would give our location away to the European police or the casino's mob. In the end, we should be just fine."

The room froze and everyone turned to look at Javari in silence. Sergei cleared his throat and Conner blushed, knowing he was the only virgin in the whole group.

"What?" The wolverine shrugged somewhat. "I'm just saying, if we did something that actually _draws attention_… mathematically speaking, it still wouldn't get back to the people who want to kill us for taking their money. Percentage-wise, it wouldn't change anything. If one of us was a celebrity, then yes… it would become the front page of next week's tabloids. Stop worrying so much."

DJ lifted her left paw casually and offered an airy chuckle. "I'm convinced we're safe, if our odds are _that_ damn good."

"So it's settled." Conner rubbed his paws together. "We'll stick together until everything is settled then have a proper goodbye, over a few drinks on the beach or something."

A grin tugged at the corner of the Russian's muzzle. "A _few _drinks? So we're all going to be naked like Javari suggested?" Sergei chuckled. "Most of the group is female; I wouldn't argue."

"You two deserve each other," said Keri.

DJ added, "We wouldn't meet at sunset_ anyhow_, let alone in the buff."

"Remember the time," Javari began, "When the three of us had to go topless, wearing thongs to distract the US Coast Guard when they wanted to board our stolen yacht? That was hilarious. I remember when…"

DJ reached her paw out, cupping Javari's muzzle with one paw and clamping fingers around the wolverine's jaw and snout with the other paw. The tigress drew in a slow breath then hissed out a sharp, "_Shh!_" A pause, then, "You need to learn to put the pirating past behind us."

"Besides," added Keri, "You remember the details wrong, anyhow. Javari, _you_ were the only one in a thong. Remember? It was because DJ and I had were those ugly-ass granny-panties." She cowered at her sister's sudden glare.

Debbie Jean narrowed her eyes sharply, still holding Javari's maw shut. "I don't even wear those anymore, thanks to that fiasco."

Sergei came to the twin's defense to some degree. "They're easy to acquire, affordable and don't draw any attention."

Keri nodded somewhat. "Which is why we took'em off before the Coast Guard got out to us in their little PT boat."

Gurlukovich shook his head with a grin. "I'd have loved to have been there. Nude sisters and a nearly nude wolverine… who was barely legal at the time, as it were."

Javari mumbled through her clamped lips. "Nuh-uh, I was sixteen back then." She murmured something incomprehensible, feeling DJ's paws tighten over her maw.

"Let's uh…" Conner cleared his throat and scratched the nape of his neck. "Let's get to the airport, guys. We have a brothel to close. And I'm not sure how much more of this story I want to know, anyways."

"Good idea," said Keri with a grin. "Because that story was _far_ from over."

DJ glared at her sister. "Quiet, you. The Lieutenant heading up the search was my ex-fiancé. Don't make it sound so damn dirty; I'm not a whore and, to this day, I'm _still_ in love with him. _THAT_ makes it okay."

Keri lifted her paws defensively. "Whoa, I never said you were a whore, nor did I ever even suggest it in even the most remote way. I'm sure if you weren't such a good pirate and he wasn't such a good officer, you two would be married by now."

Javari's muffled response came through half-clinched teeth. "I'm sure he's out there, still looking for you with love in his eyes, DJ." She ended her statement with a resounding, "Mmph!"

Dawn drew in a deep breath and slid off the dresser. "Yeah, so… we'll all be headed to the airport. Sergei, what are you going to do with your car?"

"I'm shipping it with dad's money. It's already taken care of and en route. No worries."

Keri approached Conner and Dawn. In a quiet tone, she told them, "He's stationed out of the Fort Lauderdale area. She's insanely in love with him. Like… fairy-tale story-book romance-movie kind of love. That's why she's acting so weird and defensive – she's nervous."

"Will you shut up and stop spilling my business to them?"

Keri ignored the other tigress and added, "He got her pregnant seven years ago. He joined the Coast Guard to provide for what he thought would be his future family. She was barely fifteen and had a miscarriage. They stayed together because they loved one another – it was the whole '_law_' thing, and it was his whole '_duty to uphold it_' that tore them apart. That's why she didn't want you two having kids at such a young age. It's hard on the body and on the emotions. So keep this abstinence thing going, if not for one another, then at least wait until your body is mature enough to handle it."

Debbie Jean released Javari's mouth and approached her sister from behind, wrapping her paws around Keri's neck. "I said _hush!_ Stop airing my dirty laundry, Keri! Believe it or not, once we got out of the womb, we started living our _own_ lives – stop living mine for just _five_ minutes. Please! Damn, I swear; you're such a _bitch_ sometimes."

"Eat me," returned Keri with a smirk.

Javari Ahma shook her head and sighed. "…Twins." She turned her attention to Dawn, who looked somewhat pale.

The teenage raccoon nodded decisively and took Conner's paw. "Let's get going, then. So is everyone excited about the warm weather?" She desperately wanted to change the subject, despite Sergei wanting to know more about what had happened two years ago out on some Yacht in American waters… The group gathered their belongings and headed for the white van. DJ fished out the keys and took the driver's seat. Her sister took shotgun and the other four huddled in the back on the floor…

* * *

**The elegant Concorde II** touched down gracefully. The group eyed one another in silence, their body language somewhat belying their general lack of experience and maturity.

Conner waited until foot traffic swelled then thinned out before getting up and reaching for his 'bass guitar', which remained hidden in the guitar case. He'd told security that it was his walking stick and that he had a permit to travel with the expensive heirloom. After showing a sneak peak to one of the security officers, to let them see it's golden coloration, he had told them it was too expensive to allow it to become anything less than 'carry on' luggage. The rest of the public was allowed to believe he carried a longneck bass guitar over his shoulder.

The aging airport had construction crews throughout most of the hallways. Scaffolding platforms were constructed against the wall in some of the larger areas. The group followed Conner to the baggage claim area, which appeared recently restored. New floor tiles gleamed, as if freshly waxed. The conveyer belts were new and effortlessly fed a line of bags to the people gathered from Cooper's flight.

Everyone gathered their belongings and silently headed for the door. They went through customs without incident and made their way to the promenade. They followed signs out to the car rental garage, easily fitting in with the other throngs of people.

At the far end of the overflow garage, DJ moved to the front of the group. They approached a gray SUV with a third-row bench seat. She pointed to the front tire and Sergei responded in silence by crawling beneath the vehicle. He rolled onto his back and pushed his right paw up into the underbelly. His left paw slid out beneath the driver door, palm open.

DJ placed her makeup kit into his paw then fished through her carryon bag, withdrawing a digital camera. Keri opened a duffle bag full of clothes and removed the only coat hanger available, bundled up with the balled up clothing. She handed it to DJ.

Javari stepped away from Dawn and Conner, putting her back against the SUV's grille, assuming the position of watch guard. She lit a cigarette to look inconspicuous but only took two or three drags from it.

DJ slid the coat hanger down between the rubberized window lining and into the doorframe. She then removed the battery from her digital camera and touched the rechargeable battery's positive and negative plates against the end of the metal hanger.

Conner sniffed at the air, able to smell burning plastic, even over the cigarette. The driver door opened. Javari pushed off of the front of the SUV, walked down besides DJ and blew a plume of cigarette smoke over the door to mask the smell of burnt plastic.

Debbie Jean switched the hot battery to her other paw, blowing cool air on it for a moment before replacing it into her digital camera for safekeeping. She handed it to her sister and in a soft voice, said, "Charge that; we may need it again." She pulled the coat hanger out and passed it to her sister, adding, "Get that back into its original shape." She pinched the cigarette from Javari's muzzle and slid into the SUV's driver seat.

She took a quick puff off the small cigarette then pulled a plastic molded panel from beneath the steering wheel. She fiddled with the wiring for a moment then took the cigarette into her fingers and used the heat of the burning cherry ember to burn two wires until their plastic coated wire jackets burned away. With the exposed wires now touching, she returned the cigarette to her muzzle, cocked her head and spit the butt out of the vehicle.

Javari stubbed it out, picked it up and used her foot to wipe away the ashes on the concrete ground. Sergei, underneath the SUV, grunted. Seconds later, the two connected wires, held by DJ, went live with current. They sparked and the engine came on. The Russian coyote crawled out from beneath the vehicle, stuffing small pedicure tools back into the makeup bag. He handed it to Javari.

Keri finished reshaping the coat hanger, a practiced art by the looks of her handiwork. She stuffed it into her back, took the makeup kit from Javari and put it into her bag then zipped the canvas container and shouldered it. Her sister unlocked the back doors and she motioned for everyone to get into the automobile.

Once everyone was inside and the doors were shut, DJ put the truck-like vehicle into gear and pulled forward. "Good timing, gang. Girls, I see you still got it. Sergei, you did a great job redirecting the AHW mechanism from the battery. Does anyone have directions to this place?"

Dawn pulled a cellular phone from her pocket, changed the settings from 'flight mode' back to 'normal' then opened the GPS application. She passed the phone up to the front. DJ placed it on the instrument panel, blocking the digital fuel gauge.

"What's AHW stand for?" asked Conner.

Sergei, in the middle seat, turned about, putting his arm along the backrest, behind Javari's head. He glanced back at Conner and said, "It stands for 'Anti Hot-Wire' mechanism. It cuts power to the cabin, so that you can't hotwire the car. If you override it the old fashion way by physically routing leads from the battery to certain wires, it becomes possible to jump the engine. After that, you're off the alternator and power cell. The starter battery design in these newer cars set back car theft by… well, by a lot. It takes several people to steal a single car, now. Plus, it's time consuming."

"Seemed pretty quick to me," said Dawn. "Good job, guys. Listen, this whole brothel thing is seriously dangerous. We actually have to disable the staff. At this hour, only the security detail is in place, which is our best bet. All the girls are in their little 'rooms' in the basement and the money is in the first floor office."

DJ adjusted the rearview mirror and asked, "Where did you get your intelligence from, hon?"

"A friend." Dawn offered a meager smile. "A friend who has the inside scoop." She lifted a paw, shook her head and told them, "I'll explain that later. For now, let's go over the details so everyone knows the score and the layout. Then we'll put together a plan, all right? It's seven minutes away from here, that leaves us with forty minutes, to be safe, before we have to head back. Since we're taking a different plane to America, let's not forget to stop by and drop off our luggage."

"Yeah, minor details, sis." Keri glanced over her shoulder and smiled at everyone. "Let's talk about this heist, huh? I'm ready for it."

* * *

_Twelve hours later… London, England._

**The dark-furred grizzly bear** rubbed his empty wrist, favoring the naked spot where a Cartier wristwatch used to be, approximately one week ago. He lifted his head, glancing at a clock on the wall then folded his arms. A bobby nodded to him in passing but he didn't return the gesture.

Another man approached him from behind. "I'm Sergeant Thomas Jennings; can I ask what you're doing here, sir?"

The bear turned about and looked the man over. "Scotland Yard?" He fished out a wallet and showed the Sergeant his identification. "ICPO, Inspector Thomas Gerard. Your mother had the good sense to give you a good first name, so she must have raised you well, too. Can you tell me why there are no security cameras here?"

"Don't you know that security cameras would leave a trace of incriminating evidence in a place like this?" Sergeant Jennings, a cliché Terrier, put his paws on his hips.

"But they'd want to watch to make sure the girls don't leave," said Gerard. "Even if they don't keep tapes, having cameras is a good way of making sure business continues forward and money is being made."

"I suppose, but no – there are no cameras." The canine cleared his throat and asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Inspector?"

"No. I'm following a trail, Sergeant. If I find anything that will help you with your case, I'll forward it to you right away. However, I'm just here to look around. Thanks for your cooperation." He walked away from the gray-furred dog and stopped in a hallway.

There were two photos taped to the wall. In them, police photographed two guards lying on the ground, found unconscious. One of the people in the picture had a tear on the back of his shirt. Gerard closed his eyes, envisioning what might have caused the tear… he deduced a melee object of some sort.

A chalk circle on the wall caught his attention. He pulled out his wallet and closely inspected the split in the leather. His eyes lifted to a small gash in the wall circled with police chalk. He glanced back down at the cut in his leather wallet. The markings were both made from something with a thin, hooked end. He recalled the raccoon teenager back in Russia at the computer store. The kid wore some sort of guitar case over his shoulder – possibly to hide some sort of staff with a sharpened end.

Gerard leaned back against the opposite hallway wall and pulled out his PDA. The grizzly opened the file on Carmelita Cooper and began cross-referencing information on her equally missing spouse. Sly Cooper's file showed a golden cane in one of the attached photographs. It had a thin tip at the end of the hook.

The inspector's eyes slowly glided back to the hole in the wall, down to the wallet in his left paw then he gazed back at the photographs taped to the bulkhead not far from the encircled hole. Sliding his wallet into his left pocket and his PDA into his right one, he closed his eyes again and paused.

A blurry flashback played out before him; he imagined what might have occured… _The golden hooked cane twirled about, flying upwards. The hook caught a guard by the back of his shirt and propelled him upwards. He slammed against the wall then dropped to the floor. The attacker twirled the cane again; it glanced against the wood panel of the narrow hallway. Gray-furred paws took it by the fulcrum then thrust it forward, grabbing the other guard by his neck. With a quick thrust from left to right, the second guard had his head slammed first against the left wall, then against the right one. The cane was relinquished from the man's neck just in time for a quick physical attack…_ Gerard deduced that the next strike to follow the stun move would have been a quick kick, an uppercut or possibly a head butt.

His eyes opened and he leaned in close, looking at the photograph taped to the wall once more. The second unconscious man in the picture had an unruly shirt collar where he'd been taken by the neck from that cane. There was blood around his muzzle from having his nose broken. Gerard moved further down the hall, folding his arms again.

He took the stairs down to the cellar. There was an indentation in the wall adjacent to a podium. Papers were strewn around the floor at the base of the pedestal. A single flip-flop was abandoned on the ground next to an overturned box of Chinese food. The handle of a fork jutted out from underneath.

Gerard approached the podium and found three police pictures, labeled, 'Evidence A', 'B' and 'C' taken at various angles. In them, a hyena with spot markings that ranged from the neck to the back of his ears was lying back in a corner. His ears were lowered; body slumped over with his head down. Rice stuck to his disheveled shirt and vest. He wore one flip-flop in the photographs. In picture 'C', the angle showed his other flip-flop several feet from where he lay.

Again, the Inspector looked back to the empty corner. Only flecks of white sticky rice remained. He closed his eyes and saw _the guard looking up from his position at the podium. His muzzle dropped and Chinese food, mostly rice, fell from his gaping jaw just in time for the blunt end of a golden cane to strike him in the face. His knee caught the bottom of the podium and all the neatly organized pages slid from it, spilling to the floor. A second strike from the cane and the man dropped his food container. The weight of the metal fork handle helped it to overturn in midair. It dropped to the ground. _

_The man stumbled, unable to get his footing or balance. He tripped over one of the flip-flops that slipped off his right foot. The cane eased around his neck then, with incredible force, the man's head was slammed into the wall, leaving an indentation in the drywall. Stress cracks spread out around the deep dent. Taken by surprise, the guard now slumped back into the corner and slid down to his rump. His head dropped, depositing the rest of his rice-speckled lunch onto his shirt and vest. His paws dropped to either side of his hips. _Gerard's eyes fluttered open and he inspected the corner closely then lifted his head and studied the indentation in the wall.

He stepped over the overturned food container and headed down the hall, coming to a line of wooden doors. Inside each room was a duet of police officers, casing the place with handheld cameras and sidewalk chalk. Thomas flashed his badge to anyone who bothered to look up and continued to the end of the hall.

The dry walling turned to painted concrete blocks. He continued to the left and entered a large square room with jail cells along the left and right side. The end wall was a host to three metal doors with small rectangular glass portholes. Every cell and door was ajar. There was a small red cylinder on the floor. He knelt down to study it for a moment then called out to one of the junior officers. "C'mere, son."

The young man approached him and tilted his head. The grizzly grinned and said, "Thomas Gerard – Interpol. Look, get an evidence baggy and pick up this small red thing."

"What is it, sir?" The beagle was polite and enunciated well.

"It's the broken heel of a woman's dress shoe. It looks like someone left here in a hurry."

The brown and white-furred canine shrugged. "We're not worried about the women – we've rounded up a few of them, the rest turned themselves in, asking for amnesty and witness protection. They were _freed_, sir. By a group of people looking to rob the joint."

"This was a _brothel_, right?" Thomas stood up and dusted off his knees.

"Upstairs, it was a brothel." The beagle cleared his throat and said, "Sir… Mister Gerard, this first floor area was a holding pen." He pointed back to the three metal doors. "That was solitary confinement for bad behavior. These cells were for new girls. The rooms in the hallway, back the way you came… that was for the seniority girls who behaved. They got to stay in a room and received half-decent meals in exchange for, well… you know."

Gerard narrowed his eyes. "Disgusting."

"It bloody-well is disgusting!" The beagle shook his head. "I don't know what to make of it. Every single woman to leave this place was carrying no less than ten thousand Euros. Some of them had as much as fifteen thousand Euros."

"Yeah?" Gerard tilted his head. "How much is that in _Pounds Sterling_?"

"Sir?" The beagle appeared confused. "We've not used Pounds Sterling for almost a decade, sir. At least eight or nine years, it's been."

"Funny how that works," said Gerard with a thin smile. "Did any of the girls describe their liberator? Teenaged raccoon, perhaps?"

"No, nothing of the sort, Mister Gerard."

"_Inspector_, Gerard." The grizzly tilted his head a bit. "No identification at all?"

"Only three girls actually saw anyone from the group who stormed this place. They said it was mostly females, and however many men there were, perhaps two; they all spoke different languages. There are different reports coming from the three girls. None of their stories match in species, only in gender. Mostly women, and two males. None of them mentioned a teenaged raccoon, though."

"Interesting." The grizzly rubbed his chin for a moment. "Are there any raccoons in this immediate group of officers?"

The perplexed beagle shook his head. "No, sir. There's one from my office, but he's on dispatch duty, today."

"I _smell_ raccoon," said Gerard. "What about any of the women who were down here?"

"Mostly vixens, an ewe, two felines and a few various breeds of canine. No raccoons, sir."

"I somehow expected as much – no raccoon captives. No raccoon officers." Gerard placed his paw against his chin again, remaining otherwise stoic. "The premises, the whole damn building …is owned by the casino." He began to circle the room, looking for anything that might have been out of place.

"What casino, Inspector Gerard?"

Thomas turned around and glared at the junior officer. He re-approached the beagle and narrowed his gaze. "Check your international news when you get off shift today, kid. Crime happens outside of Scotland Yard's reach. There was a casino in Russia that was hit recently. They owned this filthy little hole of," he threw his paws out, exclaiming a vituperative word that best described the dank underground setting. "Where are these women? I need a statement from the three who had contact with this group of people. I need them to lead me to a missing Interpol employee and it's very Goddamn important, understand?"

"Talk to the Captain, sir. They're up on the first floor," said the beagle. "Last I saw them, they were in the main office, where the safe is."

With a huff, Gerard walked back down the concrete hall, heading for the stairs. The hallway turned to drywall then changed to wood paneling as he reached the stairway. Thomas took the steps two at a time and walked down the hall, turned right then left and stepped into a rather spacious office. Two men were hunched over an opened safe. One of them stood up, wearing the 'Captain' rank on his lapel.

The grizzly offered a paw. "Inspector Thomas Gerard with ICPO. I'm looking for the three ladies who encountered the liberation team – I believe this group may be headed in the general direction of a missing Interpol employee. I need to know everything they can tell me about these people."

The Captain placed his paws on his hips with a smirk. "You're looking for the missing Interpol lady? Carmelita Fox, right?"

Thomas' demeanor changed. "Finally, someone who knows what the hell is going on outside of his or her jurisdiction. Yes, that's _exactly_ who I'm looking for."

"I don't know much about the people who broke into this place and trashed it… but they did us a service," said the Captain, an aristocratic looking collie, well dressed and neatly groomed. "But so far as Carmelita Fox, she's in America. I helped her head into Russia about a month or so back – last I heard, she was headed across the Atlantic."

"You called her by her maiden name, Captain… You do realize she's married, right? How do you know she's headed to America? It's been on the news that she's missing."

"Yeah," said the Captain with a smirk. "I saw where Interpol claimed she was on _vacation_. I didn't know that ICPO was into _lying_ to the media, now. She'll _always_ be Carmelita _Fox_ to me. I never cared for that scoundrel fleabag Procyon Lotor thief. Did you know Christopher Columbus discovered those furballs? He was the first to have a written record about the filthy species. Can I just tell you that I dislike Sly Cooper and I'll _never_ refer to her with his surname."

"Captain…" Thomas trailed off in shock. "I didn't realize racism was still so very prominent in the professional circuit. I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear what you said, and I certainly hope you don't treat today's dispatch officer like a 'scoundrel fleabag furball'. Also, if you _knew_ of her whereabouts, why didn't you report it to us?"

"No one asked," said the man. "You guys claimed she was on vacation – a very bold lie. I figured you people already knew she was hot on the trail. Listen, Inspector… do me a favor, as I'm trying to work here and don't need you getting in my way… Head to Florida, and you'll find your woman. I didn't even know Interpol was _looking_ for her. She was never _lost_ to begin with."

"What part of Florida? There are many large cities. Tampa, Orlando, Jacksonville, Tallahassee, Daytona Beach, Key West, Fort Lauderdale, Miami," he rambled on.

"Stop!" The collie turned back to the safe and knelt down in front of it. "The latter of your ridiculous rant. Now, _good day_, good sir. Don't hassle my witnesses. They've come to us for protection; I'll require paperwork if you want to speak with them. And if you ask me, you shouldn't bother wasting your time – they all have a different story. Now get out of here; go west, young man." He waved a dismissing paw at the grizzly and turned his attention back on the empty safe.

Thomas rubbed his chin for a moment. "I'll tell her you said hello, Captain…" He trailed off, expecting a name.

"Captain _Get-the-Hell-out-of-my-Sight_, of Scotland Yard." The reply was sharp and nasty in tone.

Gerard growled under his breath and stepped out of the office and back into the hall. He took a cellphone out of his pocket and dialed a number. After a moment, he said, "The trail heated back up – I thought I was chasing a loose end. Somehow I got lucky and ran into someone who recently worked with her, here in London. ….No, sir. Correct. No, she's in Miami, Florida – this is according to an apparent contact of hers, a Captain working for Scotland Yard. …Yes, sir. No, I'll head to Heathrow right away, sir."

The Captain, back in the office, called out after Gerard in a sarcastic voice. "It's in the London Borough of Hillingdon! You can't miss it!"

"Yes, sir – I'll head there right away, sir." He shut the cellphone and called back, "Oh, is that in Middlesex County, Captain? I'll be sure to _look for it_!" He stormed out of the brothel and began walking to the end of the block, paw extended outwards to hail the next incoming taxi service.

A voice came from behind, startling the grizzly. "You shouldn't argue with him, he's a good man. In fact, he's been awarded the George Cross two years ago."

Thomas turned about, coming face to face with a weasel in his mid-to-upper forties. "Can I help you?"

"You don't even know me," said the man, shaking his head. "I used to work for Interpol, young man. You're the one looking for Carmelita Cooper, correct?"

"Yeah, it's suddenly public news – yes, I'm looking for her."

The unidentified man shook his head slowly with a sigh. "Like me, Captain Gerry Moss has a life-long crush on Carmelita. I finally got a clue though."

"When she was married?"

"No, when her second child was born, I knew I truly lost my chance." He offered a paw to the bear. "You can call me Winthrop. I worked for her a few years ago. Well, a bit longer than a 'few' years ago… I worked for her back when she was a young Inspector. I overheard Gerry Moss telling you that she went to Miami. I've been trailing you because I wanted to find her, too. I want to know she's all right. Do you mind if I tag along?"

"…I suppose that would be acceptable. You really used to work for her?"

"I can prove it. For now, perhaps we should head west, to America. And yes, I really used to work for her. It's silly – I get so nervous around her. Even still, she has that effect on me. I'm perfectly fine and sometimes I'm not even clumsy. Then she comes into the area and I become a bumbling idiot. I hate that… but I still adore her. I want to make sure she's not in deep trouble."

"Fair enough," said Gerard, eyeing the weasel for a moment. "But you've got to pay your own way to go with me to America."

"That's fine. I'm glad you'll let me go along with you… oh, and in case you wanted to know…" He looked around, glancing about furtively. The weasel leaned in close a whispered, "Her son is out looking for her, too. He was here, earlier. I can't sufficiently prove it, but mark my words. What happened in there has Sly Cooper's style written all over the place. That kid is a chip off the old block. Trust me. Conner Cooper was in there, I have no doubts in my mind about that."

Thomas Gerard nodded slowly. "Thanks… I was starting to doubt my instincts, but you gave me a sort of renewed strength in my gut… I had a feeling that Conner was behind this… he was behind the casino, too… right?"

"He's a slippery one, Inspector; the casino turned out to be a precisian heist. Here's something you _don't_ know about the new Cooper Gang… They only came here to rescue a single girl. All the others were a bonus. The girl they came for is the only living blood relative of the teenage raccoon girl who is helping Conner Cooper."

"Really…?" The grizzly frowned. "That means there _was_ a raccoon female here at the brothel… that idiot cop lied to me, or was mistaken. Needless to say, that's interesting. So how long have you been shadowing me?"

"The girl was a hybrid, they may not have realized she was part raccoon." Winthrop offered a weak smile. "I was at the casino while you were there, working the case. But I pushed on in half the time… perhaps I picked up a few good things from Carmelita back in the day but… I don't hover like yourself. After a single day, I found the new Cooper gang and trailed them to the airport. I followed them here. Funny that I bump into you, again. That's just a sign to me… maybe we can help one another."

"Very well." Thomas saw a taxicab at the end of the street. He thrust his paws out and waved at the incoming car. It pulled over. The grizzly approached the open passenger window and said, "Two headed to Heathrow, please." He opened the door for Winthrop then scooted in behind the older gentleman. Now he just had to set up tickets to fly out to Miami… he was ready to move forward on the case, energetically charged with a new sense of purpose and excited by the prospect of being back on track again. He felt enlightened by this new information and cracked his knuckles. He was getting closer…

* * *

A/N: _Okay, another long chapter… sorry about that! So I've implemented Winthrop Weasel! He's grown up a lot since the comics and, while he still occasionally wears bow ties and suspenders, he's also more mature and shows some measure of promise. All that time around Carmelita, he probably knows a little bit about how to work a case. Now Gerard has Weasel and the two of them can team up, huh? _

_I wonder how Winthrop knew Conner was involved in the Brothel gig? I'll let you in on a secret… he managed to catch up with Conner back in Russia and arrived on scene in London just in time to watch the new Cooper gang work. He's not yet told this to Gerard… but Winthrop was THERE, IN PERSON, when Conner took down the Brothel. I know I didn't write out ALL the details of that heist, but I actually PLAN to do so in a more formal flashback scene later on. For now, I did the little flashbacks, ala 'CSI' the television show…Or something. xD  
_

_Take care! I'm on vacation in Orlando right now… it's wonderful, the weather is great and I'm having a blast! :D_

_-k_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter -12-

**Conner looked up, arms folded, **with the sudden realization that all the girls were watching him pace. "What?"

"Will you relax?" Dawn tilted her head and added, "Don't make me put you under again," with a slight grin in reference to when she rendered him unconscious the day they met. "So things haven't gone according to plan – trust me, the passport issue is perfectly fine. Sergei and Javari are going to be fine."

"It's still awkward that they diverted our flight to _Atlanta_, _Georgia_. I mean, _who_ has _ever_ heard of the United States getting a hurricane in _January_? It seems absurd. One would typically associate winter with _snow_ up north, but _not hurricanes_. I thought hurricanes were fueled by warm water?"

"They are," said DJ, pampering her claws with a nail file. "I've never paid much attention to when the United States is in hurricane season, but one thing is for sure: Winter hurricanes are _bizarre_. Consider this, though: Florida is supposedly having one of the _worst_ forest fires in recorded history right now… Call it divine intervention if you like, but I'm willing to wager that Floridians are actually _happy_ to see a hurricane, in consideration that they've got out-of-control fires and a really bad drought."

Keri nodded, sitting next to Dawn on one of the colorful rows of random chairs that lined the hallway. She gazed forward for a moment at a string of public telephones against the opposite wall then looked up. "What's the weather forecast for the remainder of the week? Poor Sergei has a convertible roadster with no top… he's finally in a warm climate and he can't even use the damn thing…" She lifted her paws defensively. "Sorry, I'm not showing pity for _him_. I just share a deep adoration for motor vehicles."

"Including the 'new' ones?" Dawn grinned. "You know you wanna try one of those silly flying contraptions." No one seemed to know the weather forecast. The question went unanswered.

Keri stood up and placed her paws on her hips. "I'll admit, it's weird that they're using cars that hover off the road. I've never driven one and I have no idea how they handle, if they slide in turns or if they drive sloppy from lack of contact with the ground. I'm not sure I'm ready to try one just yet."

"It won't be long," said Dawn, her grin broadening into a smile. "Soon, we'll be flying a hundred meters above the ground, like in that movie, _Back to the Future II_. We'll be able to fly where we want, go over water if we like, and 'off road' will be a way of life."

Keri smirked, the corner of her muzzle tugging up on the right, trying desperately not to sneer in disgust. She took a slow breath in through her clinched teeth then quipped, "And precision motorway racing will be a lost art." The tigress turned back to Dawn and asked, "Okay, so America and select parts of Europe are finally adapting their highway infrastructure to accommodate this big change… but what about you? What's America offering _you_, that has you all smiles today?"

The female raccoon's broadened smile evolved into a toothy Cheshire expression. "Let's see… technology is faster and more affordable than it is in places like Russia, Africa or other third-world regions. I'm finally going to build myself an 'enthusiast' rig."

Debbie Jean stopped filing her claws with a blank expression. "Do I even want to know?" DJ glanced at her sister, then to Conner and finally back to the boy's new girlfriend.

"Ladies and gentle_man_…" Dawn rubbed her paws together. "Economy computers that are 'price friendly' run _sixteen_ terabytes of onboard ram as opposed to just two or four. Instead of scouring Russia to buy some five-hundred terabyte drives or a coveted one, two or five petabyte drive, I can now get a 'fifteen thousand RPM' _forty petabyte_ drive and run them in a RAID array for as many exabytes, zettabytes or even yottabytes as I want."

The tigress went back to filing her claws. "Yottabytes? Sounds to me like you're just making that crap up." DJ shook her head. "Who comes up with the names of these goofy sounding sizes?"

A fresh feminine voice joined the conversation, causing everyone to look up at her. "That would be the ancient Greeks," said Javari. Behind her, Sergei was drawing sunglasses from an inside blazer pocket and putting them on with a casual grin.

"It's about time," exclaimed Conner looking rather relieved. "We've got a bit of a southbound drive ahead of us. In the rain, no less – it's a solid ten to fifteen hours, depending on the weather and traffic. I'm looking forward to getting underway."

Sergei directed his attention to Dawn as the group headed for the exit, following signs towards the Rental Car Garage. "Dawn, I overheard you say that Russia makes it difficult to find certain computer parts you need – it depends from whom you buy. Russia isn't all bad, you know."

"Surge, they still have people there who suffer from Cystic Fibrosis. Virus mutational gene therapy _cured_ CF a decade ago. The only known cases, world wide, exist in Russia, Africa and South America. TEN YEARS ago, Sergei. They're _really_ behind in the times. But believe me, I loved Russia – that's why my father and I moved there. We made our living there until he was killed. After he was gone, I started to open my eyes and I saw things in a different light. That's why I fell in love with Japan; the culture is obsessed with learning, with art and music and with technology. Life is just different in Russia than it is anywhere else. I'm looking forward to getting _modern_ gear."

Conner placed a paw at the small of Dawn's back and said, "They're about to phase out i-SATA 64 gigabytes per second – they're going with optical connectors, because copper wires are too slow. Bentley was telling me a few months ago that both Intel and AMD will be breaking away from multi-core fiber optic architecture because a single core quantum processor will run circles around the current fastest multicore half-terahertz CPU. I wonder if they'll have single block solid-state cooling methods for those new CPUs. They'll need it to apply that kind of speed to a laptop."

Dawn gawked at Conner Cooper for a moment. She suddenly placed both her paws on either side of his face and pulled him into a rather delicious kiss. The group was surprised and Conner was startled. After a moment, she broke the kiss and said, "That's the hottest thing you've ever said. Do it again – talk dirty to me."

Javari face-palmed. Sergei groaned. DJ shook her head and Keri held the exit door for everyone, refusing to go through the automated ones.

Cooper shrugged his left shoulder, repositioning the guitar case with his father's cane. "I'm just saying… They're probably going to do away with the current technology and move forward to the new stuff. I know that i-SATA is getting canned, now that they have quantum cascade laser connections. I'm not exactly sure how that works; in magazines they look just like regular wire connections to me."

Dawn stepped through the exit door and took Conner's paw. "It's a semiconductor device that takes advantage of quantum effects to operate at frequencies in the terahertz range. A laser shoots its light into a fiber optic tube, and produces a pulse of near-infrared light, lasting as little as one femtosecond."

DJ smirked at Dawn. "Femtosecond? _Now_ you're _definitely_ making shit up, girl."

A paw was lifted and in a semi-defensive tone, Javari announced, "No, a femtosecond is thousandth-of-a-trillionth-of-a-second. Femto isn't a faux term."

Dawn offered Javari a smile of appreciation then continued. "When those short pulses hit the target device, they produce broadband terahertz radiation. Special electromagnetic waves irradiate the graphene-coated motherboard, which emit radiation at a higher frequency of harmonics, thus working as a frequency multiplier. It's the fastest way to decode the fiber optic laser pulses."

Conner rubbed his chin with his free paw, using his other one to interlock his fingers with hers. "Okay, I think I follow… Bentley and I actually talked about something to this effect once. What you're saying is… if you irradiate the race track with a certain frequency of light, it reflects back a higher frequency, pushing the racecar forward without the need of its own propulsion… but this happens on a micron level, or even smaller."

"I had no idea you were so versed with technology – I'll have to meet this godfather of yours, Conner."

The male raccoon grinned. "I'll have to arrange that meeting some time." He lifted his paw from hers and placed it against the small of her back, again. "You guys will be able to geek out on conversations all over the place. But yeah, I know a little bit about computers from spending so much time around him in the past. But don't they want to use frequency transformation and actually _teleport_ the bits of data, which will travel faster than conventional light in order to make the processor run faster than the average speed of light? I mean, won't we break the one-terahertz speed record?"

"Probably," she concluded, snuggling closer to the raccoon as they walked together through the outdoor promenade. "I hope they do it soon – current technology will go down in price."

"Yeah, true." They went out to the rental garage and, using an automated obelisk, actually _paid_ for a rental car to help throw any future 'hunters' off of the team's 'scent' by means of clever misdirection.

Sergei reached for the keys from DJ. "Let me drive; you drove in London. I want to drive."

Deborah Jean swiped the blank, plastic card and handed off the keys to Surge with a grin. "Be my _guest_. I'm actually still tired. I was a little restless and couldn't sleep on the plane."

Keri whispered to Javari and Sergei. "She's not fond of old passenger jets."

The group loaded into an SUV with modernized hoverpad technology. Sergei put the keys into the ignition and it lifted off the ground. The baseboards beneath the doors retracted into the body and he pulled forward from the parking spot. He cut the wheel and the car responded elegantly. Surge furrowed his brows. "Actually, it's not bad. It feels like I'm driving a Cadillac. I wonder how it handles in turns and in higher speeds."

"And in the rain," added Keri, who sat with her sister in the middle row of the vehicle. "We'll be seeing some of that as we head further south. The storm only made landfall two hours ago."

"Let's find out."

Javari reached over and placed a paw on the coyote's knee. "Sergei, let's wait until later for that. Just drive normally so we can stay under the radar."

DJ reclined her backrest and adjusted the headrest, snuggling into the chair. "I knew I liked you, Ahma."

Keri Tiikeri opened her duffle bag and pulled out a chinchilla-soft blanket, draping it over her sister's body. She then glanced over her shoulder to the seats in the back. "You guys comfortable back there?" She froze, seeing Conner and Dawn already passed out together, cuddled up for warmth and comfort. "Oh, geeze – get a load of these two; they're already breathing heavy and all picture-perfect together."

"Take a nap, Keri." Surge glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "It's a long drive and I'm wired – I slept like a baby on the plane."

With a shrug, Keri scooted towards the middle of the split-bench seating to get closer to her sister. "Let me in the blanket, hag."

DJ lifted an end of the blanket to let her twin get closer. "Yeah, yeah. It figures – I have to share. You're a ward on my soul sometimes."

With a soft sigh, Javari shook her head and muttered, "Twins."

* * *

**Several hours into the drive,** with everyone in the center and back row asleep, Javari and Sergei were deeply engrossed in quiet conversation. The sky above grew dark gray but the Floridian roads were empty and dry. Grass and trees on all sides were a burnt shade of brown. Occasionally they would pass downed tree logs, still glowing orange from the dying embers of recent forest-fire devastation.

"Florida really needs this upcoming rain." Surge shook his head slowly. "It's a shame though – I was really looking forward to driving my Shelby Cobra around this state – it's the perfect temperature this time of year. I'll take my cut of the heist money and get a storage place for it. We'll rent something and take a little vacation this week."

"I'm game." Javari's attention was partially on her cellular telephone. "According to the Internet, there's a second tropical depression north of Cuba. It's picking up power and they expect it to reach hurricane status by sometime today. If it continues on its current projected path, it will hit west Florida by tomorrow. After it passed out of Tampa, their model projects it to move towards New Orleans, picking up more steam in the Gulf of Mexico."

"Then west towards Texas or North towards inland Louisiana?"

The wolverine shrugged. "The projection doesn't go beyond New Orleans right now."

"What could be causing hurricanes this time of year, I am wondering? What is the mathematical probability for this sort of thing, Lady?"

Javari shrugged. "It's winter time; it's unheard of. It's not impossible, just improbable. I'd need to know more about past conditions, recent and in antiquity to give you a numerical percentage – I'm not really familiar with that stuff."

"You've got Internet in your paw," he replied. "You could probably look it up – I'm sure someone else has already done the math."

"Let's just say it's rather unlikely, especially to receive two hurricanes back to back. But you're right – Florida needed this." She lifted her head, gazing out the window at the charred scenery. Even with the powerful air filtration system, a faint smell of burnt wood was present inside the vehicle. "Florida receives more lightning strikes than any other state or territory in this country."

"I like that you're both smart _and_ fun." Sergei reached his right paw over and playfully wiggled his fingernails over her tummy. A soft _churring_ sound emanated from the back of her throat. The Russian grinned and asked, "You like that, huh? I shall endeavor to remember such, Lady."

She placed a paw atop of his and returned the grin. "You're English is getting better from spending a few days around us. I take it you didn't use it often until recently?"

"Practice helps, right?"

A voice from behind entered the conversation. "Pull off at the next exit," said Conner. "I've got to pee, man."

"Me too," muttered Keri from the middle row.

"It is settled, then," announced Sergei in a full, robust voice that caused DJ and Dawn to stir. "We're stopping at the next exit for drinks and bathroom breaks, my friends – everyone stretch and shake off your being grogginess."

The floating SUV eased over to an exit ramp and minutes later pulled in at a travel center. DJ opted to remain in the car, while everyone else got up to stretch, use the bathroom or get something to eat or drink. Halfway through the parking lot, Conner glanced over his shoulder at the SUV and squinted. "Sergei, you left your window open."

"So? DJ's in there. Besides, we're just going into the gas station – we'll be RIGHT HERE, I can see it just fine from inside." He grinned, trying to make a joke of the situation. "If someone steals the car, we'll just take another one – no big loss, Friend."

Cooper shook his head. "Our belongings in the car are _not_ replaceable. Besides, it's supposed to start raining soon – if it starts rather suddenly, you'll be coming out to a wet seat."

Sergei looked disenchanted. "Oh, yeah…" He nodded slightly. "Right, you're right." He separated from the group, heading back to the vehicle.

Dawn held the door open to the gas station. "What's sad is that you're fourteen and he's eighteen. One wonders where his level of maturity is at, sometimes." She stepped in behind Conner but then followed Javari to the snack food aisle. Conner spotted Keri in the far left corner and headed in her direction, looking for the bathrooms.

Once everyone was sated and settled back in the SUV, Keri offered to finish the drive. DJ reluctantly moved to the front passenger seat with her sister's blanket. Javari and Sergei moved to the middle row to get snuggly, and Dawn found a cozy spot on Conner's lap. His cellphone went off but she didn't stir or appear to react to it. He put a paw upon her head, between her ears and said, "Finally exposing your soft _underbelly_, huh?" He fidgeted with his free paw, working the phone from his pocket then answered it. "Hello?"

Bentley's voice chimed in on the other end, speaking in French. "So, have you found your parents yet?"

Instinctively, Conner replied in French. "Things got a little complicated – they're in Florida."

The tortoise sounded mildly surprised. "That's not good – they're experiencing problematic weather conditions, a variety of extremes clashing together."

Conner yawned and lifted the paw from Dawn's head, arching his back somewhat to stretch his muscles. He placed his palm back upon her soft headfur. "Yeah, the air smells of smoke and water."

"From the sounds of your pandiculation, you appear disinterested and unsurprised by it. So, it's not raining where you are, just yet?"

"Nah, we're about…" He paused, gazing out the window. A shimmering holographic Interstate sign read, '_Please follow regulated evacuation route – use suggested detours_.' The sign changed briefly, reading, '_Daytona Beach – 11mi_.' Conner cleared his throat and said, "We're about ten minutes north of Daytona, but you can smell the rain in the air – it should be starting at any minute." As if on cue, raindrops began to pelt the windows. The automatic wiper sensors caused the windshield wipers to activate on the front and rear windshield. "Speak of the devil."

"You're going into one hell of a storm, there's another one right behind the first. According to the weather forecast, a new storm has just been classified as a hurricane. It's headed north towards the Florida tip and it looks big. Turn around and head north – wait out the storm, please."

"We're in a hovercar, Bentley. We'll be fine – it's not like you can hydroplane if you don't touch the ground. Relax."

"That doesn't make you safe from other negligent drivers on the road. Florida is in a 'state of emergency'. There's already reports of flooding in south Miami."

"Funny, that's where we're headed. Worst comes to worst, we'll convert this SUV into a dinghy and zip around that way, okay? Just relax, will you?" He paused then smiled and added, "I met a girl. You'd like her."

"I'd like her even more if she had enough common sense to convince you _not_ to drive into Miami right now. That's just sheer stupidity. Your mother would have a fit."

"She'll have a fit to know that her fourteen year old son is dating. She'll have a fit to know that I stole dad's cane from you, ran to Russia alone then headed to Florida during a statewide crisis. I expect her to be hyperventilating by the time she would get to the part about Miami, so that's the least of my worries."

"I warned you."

"About this girl… I haven't told her yet," said Conner, "but I'm in love with her. I know it hasn't been very long, but it's plainly obvious that she's the one I want. I'll return the cane the day I come home, okay?"

"It's not even about that anymore – having it puts you into danger, but driving into a hurricane, let alone driving into a state ravaged by forest fires isn't saying much about your ability to make good judgment calls."

"Stop worrying. You and my father rushed headlong into all-out warzones just to pull heists and start trouble. I'm going into a rainstorm that, if anything, is Nature's bizarrely timed answer to a drought-induced fire. I'll bring an umbrella, okay? See you soon."

"Don't lose that cane."

"I'll call you later." He disconnected the line and chuckled. In English, he told the slumbering Dawn, "That was my godfather I told you about earlier. He looks forward to meeting you and he's concerned about the weather."

In response, she murmured softly. Her incoherent reply brought a smile to his face. He leaned back in his seat, keeping his paw upon her head. The teenage raccoon closed his eyes…

* * *

**The dull drone of rain** on the metal roof and glass windows was a soothing, constant sound. Mixed in with the rhythmic churning of the windshield wipers on the front and back of the SUV, Conner found it easy to sleep… until the vehicle swerved, causing him to shift his weight rather suddenly. He sat up with wide doe-eyes and glanced about quickly, his body alert before his mind could prove ready.

Keri had both paws on the wheel, glancing over her shoulder with a scowl upon her face. "You'd think people would know how to drive in a little rain," she grumbled.

"_Little_ rain – that's the understatement of the century," replied DJ in a voice that sounded eerily identical to that of her twin. To the groggy raccoon, it sounded like Keri spoke twice, but without moving her muzzle the second time.

Conner shook his head a bit to get at himself. "Where are we?"

"Miami," said one of the tigress twins – he wasn't sure who said it. He turned his head to check on Dawn. When he fell asleep, earlier, she had her head in his lap. Now, however, she was splayed out in the corner of the backrest, half against the plastic molded interior panel.

Again, one of the sisters spoke. "This is the _fourth_ hotel with a 'no vacancy' sign posted. They're closed due to the storm. We can always take refuge in a church or something but the sleeping accommodations won't be very comfortable."

"Try that place over there," said the other sister. "On the corner with the palm trees, see it?"

"Give me a minute; I see it – the one with the palmetto tree cracked in half and swaying around in a retarded 'L' shape. If you're going to be a backseat driver, Deej, then stop sitting up front with me cause you know that irritates the hell out of me."

"Wah, wah, wah – I think I'll kick and pitch a fit because my side of the womb isn't roomy enough; yeah, like getting upset _really_ solves the problem, Keri."

"I should have choked you with the umbilical cord while I had the chance." Keri cut the wheel and eased into the accelerator, causing Dawn to flop back towards Conner. He was ready for it and embraced her before her seatbelt could snag. Keri said something else snarky to her sister but Conner wasn't listening anymore. His attention was on Dawn who began to stir slightly.

"Hey," he said to her in a soft voice. "Welcome back – sleep well?"

She yawned softly in a tiny little squeak of a voice then sat up. She scrunched up her facial features then brought her paws up to cover her face, taking three slow gasps for air. Quite suddenly, she expelled it back out in a sneeze that resembled nothing more than a high pitch whisper of noise. "Ah, AHH… _-tew_!-"

"Ah geeze," said DJ, looking to the back row from all the way up front. "Even her freakin' sneezes are cute. Sheesh." She cut her attention back to the blurry windshield, inundated with a massive downpour. "We may be in luck, their parking garage gate is open!"

"I see it; shaddaup!" Keri turned into the garage. All at once, the rhythmic rumbling of rain sound came to an end. All that remained was the motorized whir of the wipers. The tigress flipped the switch for the front and back wiper blades and that sound, too, concluded in silence. "That was dramatic, huh? Listen, you can hear the howl of the wind through the empty garage."

DJ's voice changed in tone, now agreeing with her sister. "Yeah, concrete acoustics – even with the windows up, it's pretty damn loud."

Keri parked the SUV on the third floor, by the entrance to the hotel building next door. "Now _that_ is handy… a skywalk. We don't have to get wet, now. Well, at least Dawn and Conner." She turned about in her seat, resting her forearm over the top of the steering wheel. "Okay, kids. We'll wait here until you give us the signal. If they refuse to take any more patrons, you let me know and I'll go in there and shake my fist."

"Pardon?" Conner blinked in confusion.

"This is it, bud," said DJ. "This is your stop, kids. We dropped off Javari and Sergei about twenty minutes ago. After this, Keri is dropping me off in Fort Lauderdale and taking my rental back up north where things are… less wet. Then we all reconvene when you kids call us and tell everyone what's going on. That's the plan, right? We lay low for a week or so?"

"Yeah, but… weren't we suppose to stop together and get pre-paid cell phones?"

DJ unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for a shopping bag on the floor in front of the center row bench seat. She took out two rectangular boxes and tossed them back to Conner, one at a time. "Boy, you must have really been out – Javari programmed all of them with names and numbers of each phone. We stopped like… two hours ago and got the phones. This is your stop – all out. Text one of us to let us know you got a room so we can get out of here."

He rubbed his face and glanced at Dawn who stretched with another adorable squeak of sound. "Yeah, sure… give me a second to get at myself. And, yeah… I slept pretty sound, actually. How bad is the storm, out there?"

"It's effing unbelievable," said DJ. "It's bad enough that a lot of the hotels have closed. We're lucky; this one looks like it might be open. Get your crap together and text us when you have your key cards."

"What's in Fort Lauderdale, DJ?" asked Conner, gathering his accoutrements. He reached down beneath the seat and pulled out the nylon guitar bag with his father's cane.

Keri coughed into her paw, cutting a sidelong glare at her sister. "Trust me, Conner – you don't want to know with this crazy chick has planned. She's got a lot of nerve, pulling this sort of stunt. She's also a whorebag cunt who needs to pull her nappy-headed mug out of her fat, ugly ass. _Furthermore_…"

Conner lifted his paws, holding the pre-paid cell phone box in his left and his laptop bag in his right. "Whoa – it's all good. No need to go any further."

"Let her elucidate further," murmured Dawn. "Their bickering is amusing." She shouldered two small duffle bags full of clothing and helped Conner by taking the cane for him. "We'll see you in a week or so, Keri. DJ, I have a feeling that I understand what you're about to do. If that's the case, I hope it works out and I wish you all the luck in the world." She reached for the rear door and scooted over the middle seat to get through the door.

DJ's demeanor changed. "Thanks, kiddo. Remember what we talked about – you'll know when you're ready. When you're selflessly making _stupid_ decisions just to put him first, that's when you're ready."

Dawn nodded, slipping out through the rear driver-side door. "I fully expect it to go both ways."

"I'm gambling." DJ offered a slight grin.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Didn't you receive a _get out of jail – free_ card, last time? Isn't that a sign?"

Tiikeri nodded slowly. "You may very well be right. Take care of yourselves. Don't do anything stupid like piss off the local Hispanics."

Dawn hooked a thumb at Conner. "His mother is a Latin vixen, that's where he gets his fiery Latin temper from. We'll fit in just fine, I promise."

Conner climbed over the middle seat and scooted towards the door. He shook Keri's paw then half-hugged DJ before sliding out of the vehicle. "You sure you two don't want to stay with us for a day or two, until this first storm blows over?"

Keri shook her head. "We're trying to hurry before the second storm hits. We were listening to the radio earlier – it picked up speed and will probably make landfall before the first one even fizzles out. Hunker down for a doubleheader, kids. Stay sharp. I'm headed north like all the _sane_ people." She paused and glared at her sister then added, "I won't be but a few hours north of here. Well, half-a-day's drive at most. Deej, here, will be a hop-skip and-a-jump away. Sergei and Javari are headed northwest. They'll be in Texas or something. Take care of yourselves."

"See you guys, stay safe." Conner closed the door, picked up his belongings and walked with Dawn to the double doors that led to the hotel next door. They followed signs down to the concierge and Conner rooted through his bag, opting to use his fake ID that claimed he was eighteen years of age.

"We're going to be here for a few days," said the raccoon. "Do you have a weekly rate special?"

The gentleman at the desk, a portly looking pig wearing a sleeveless sweater over a dress shirt, offered a slight frown. "I hate to inform you that the franchise owner has raised the normal rates to capitalize on people who may have been flooded out of their houses. We're asking twenty-five hundred a night for economy rooms, but all twelve are already occupied." His voice grew soft, looking nervous. "A week rate for our remaining suites run at _five thousand_ a night. We're currently not offering a week rate discount."

Dawn turned to her boyfriend and whispered into his ear. "That's more than we have on us. Five grand multiplied by seven days is _thirty-five thousand dollars_. That's beyond reason, only the absolute _wealthy_ can afford it. It would take some time to try and procure a fraudulent American Express card, which doesn't have a spending limit. What're we going to do?"

Conner took a slow breath, drawing the pre-paid phone out of its box. "All right. Do you know of any other hotels that are currently open?"

"I'm afraid not," said the concierge. "To my knowledge, we're the only one foolish enough to stay open. I've only seen one other person daring enough to pay our rates." He gestured to a man sitting in one of the comfortable lobby chairs adjacent to an electric fireplace with a book. "Oddly enough, after paying all that money for his room, he's not yet gone up to it."

The teenager frowned and shook his head. "I can afford two nights, but I'll be paying in cash. If the storm lets up, or this second storm isn't as bad as people think it's going to be… will your rates go down?"

"Even after the storms subside," said the man at the counter, "I'm ashamed to inform you that the rates will stay that way until two weeks from today. Many people have lost their homes from forest fires or, as of this morning, from floods. Last week, the rates were foolishly high – now they've doubled. I'll need to see your identification, sir." He took Conner's ID card and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Mister Cooper."

The man in the lobby chair closed his book and stood up. The opulent-dressed jackal placed the book back on the shelf above the fireplace and approached the counter. With his left paw, he adjusted his right cufflink then folded his hands, placing them upon the desk. "I couldn't help but overhear you, good sir."

The concierge looked nervous all over again. "I'm sorry, I had no intentions of being disrespectful about your business sir. I wasn't aware you could hear me – I know that is no excuse. I was merely saying that I was surprised because you paid such an inflated rate then went to sit in the lobby. I meant no disrespect sir…"

The jackal lifted a well-manicured paw, gesturing for quiet. "That is of no concern. I would like to add Mister Cooper…" He turned his gaze to both raccoons and continued. "…And his lady friend. Charge their week stay to my account, if you would be so kind." He reached into his blazer pocket and withdrew three hundred dollars, placing the three big bills upon the counter. "Here is a tip for your effort."

"I…" The well-groomed hog stammered for a moment. "Yes, yes sir – right away, Mister Vai."

The jackal offered a smile. "I trust the dining hall will be staffed as usual this evening? Inflated rates, I assume, would also apply to fine dining?"

"You're correct, Mister Vai. How many seats, sir?"

"Four." He turned to Conner and Dawn. "Dinner is in six hours. Please be prompt, Monsieur Cooper," he said then cut his soft gaze to Dawn, adding, "…And esteemed guest, mademoiselle." He turned back to the counter, took an offered pen and signed the electronic display built into a swivel mount on the countertop then nodded to the two raccoons. "Mon seigneur, Mea domina – if you'll both excuse me, I wish to retire to my suite. I'll make a proper introduction this evening at dinner. Until then." He turned from them and walked away.

"…Wow." Dawn blinked, watching him depart. "If ever the word 'bishōnen' were to apply, now would be the time." She paused then tilted her head. "Actually, it would be 'biseinen' because he definitely looks like he's of legal age, wearing that suit. Right out of any Heian age novel. It's _eerie_ how _pretty_ he is, Conner."

"I thought, at first, he was a _she_, but wearing a man's blazer… then he spoke."

The concierge nodded slowly. "Yes, he does have a rather pronounced baritone voice, doesn't he? It's somewhat melodic in a way."

"He's a bidanshi," announced Dawn. "He's gorgeous. He transcends any feasible boundary of sexual orientation." She glanced back at the two males and added, "Basically, even the biggest homophobe around would admit that 'attractive' is an acceptable term for him."

"No arguments here," said the kindly looking pig. He handed Conner a card key then offered Dawn one for herself. "Mister Vai was very generous, don't you think?"

Conner knew Dawn would want to know and so he asked, "Could I ask you of his first name?"

The concierge nodded and typed on his keyboard. He looked up and said, "Kalen Vai." He cut his eyes to Conner with a smile. "You two are practically neighbors. I recall that his ID said he is from Lyon, France."

The teenager blinked. "Really? Now _that's_ interesting. He's not a Frenchman." He gathered his belongings and placed a paw on the small of Dawn's back. "Thank you for your help, sir. We'll be in our room." He guided Dawn towards the elevators at the end of the hall.

* * *

Conner finished hanging the last shirt on a closet hanger then shut the door. "There." He stepped back then folded his arms. He swiveled his head to the left and caught glimpse of Dawn lying on the bed, watching him. "What?"

"You, you're being tidy. What's on your mind?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, why? I just wanted to organize everything for you."

"You're being sweet," she said with a chuckle. "What's gotten into you? Do I look like a glass of iced tea? As much as I like you showering me with sugar, I still want to know what's going on."

With a chuckle, he approached her and settled down on the bed. "As nice as he was to us, I bet Kalen Vai wouldn't have hung up our clothes. Someone had to do it."

Dawn gaped, trying not to break into laughter. She cupped either side of his face and said, "Oh my God, you're being jealous! That is the _cutest thing ever_! After a week without really seeing any real reaction from you, save for a bit of temper and worry over losing the cane… I've not seen any real emotion towards me beyond when we were kissing, after the heist."

"Me? Jealous?" He quirked a brow and shook his head slowly. "No, I'm just pointing out the obvious fact that he's '_gorgeous_' and I'm some fourteen year old kid, who has not yet grown into his body… so I look like a dweeb by comparison. He's a man – a beautiful man. And I'm just a boy, by far."

She couldn't help it anymore. She began to giggle with an inner glee. Knowing she made him jealous enough to get a reaction meant that she affected him enough for their relationship to matter. With her paws still on either side of his face, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Dawn tilted her head, slanting her parted muzzle against his own, deepening the kiss without warning.

Her sudden forcefulness inadvertently guided him back until he was lying on the pillow but she followed his movements, never breaking the kiss. The female moved to a straddling position, her knees on either side of his waist. Her back arched like a horseshoe, keeping her lips pressed firmly to his; her tongue glided into his maw to dance with his, swirling about the soft, silky pink tip.

Conner's masculine ego returned. He lifted his paws, placing one upon the back of her head and the other into her back pocket, cupping her rump. She released his face and placed both of her palms against his chest. Her tail swayed energetically, brushing against his knees and ankles. She broke the kiss somewhat and told him, "I don't want a man who is pretty enough to be a girl – I want a man that looks _manly_. That's what I have and that makes me _happy_." She leaned in to kiss him again.

Conner shifted hard, rolling them both until she found herself upon her back with him moving upon her form. He embraced her, one arm coiling around her hips, his other slipping beneath her left arm then reaching up along her spine, cupping the back of her head. He pinned her firmly to the mattress and closed his lips over her tongue, suckling softly. His sensual, passionate mannerisms caused a shiver to run down her spine. She bucked her body up against him instinctively.

Surrendering to his touch, she lifted her legs and circled his waist with them. Before either realized it, they were clinging to one another in erotic fashion, both turned on and filled with desire. Cooper retracted his arms then reached for her wrists and pinned them to the pillow above her head. She swooned, eagerly giving over control of her body to him. Holding her paws firmly in place, he leaned in and kissed her again. She shuttered with eagerness.

He ended the liplock and began to nibble his way down the side of her neck to her collarbone. Dawn tossed her head from left to right, listlessly, from the pent up ache building within her body. "You make me feel so damn good, Conner."

He used his teeth and tongue to undo the top button of her blouse then nipped and nibbled further down over her bountiful cleavage. She murred and writhed, abandoning all reason. She tensed up against him, testing how firmly he'd pinned her forearms to the pillow. It turned her on beyond measure.

"Pants… _off_," she whispered into his gray-furred ear.

Conner attempted to resist that temptation. "I don't have any condoms on me." His words were muffled against the swell of her bosom. "How about I take you for a taste-test instead…"

She gasped at the thought of it. "…Conner!" She writhed again, squirming in anticipation. "God that sounds nice… but…" She tried to force herself to remember her conversation with DJ. "I want that to happen more than you can ever know… but…"

He took one last teasing lick against the fur-covered flesh of her upper torso then lifted his head and nodded to her. "You're absolutely right – we're getting carried away." He lifted her paws from the pillow, kissing her left knuckles then he released her wrists. "I am content to just kiss you – everything else can wait until it's the right time." Again he wrapped his arms around her body, leaning in to nip at her lower lip again.

"You're sweet," she replied, lifting her head somewhat to meet his kiss. Her arms quickly snaked about his neck then she murmured the word, "_Tease_," to him before meeting his kiss.

A moment into the kiss he lifted his head again and grinned down at her. "Me? A tease? I'll take that as a compliment. C'mon, we've been cooped up in the backseat of a car for _hours_ upon _hours_. Let's take another shower together."

Dawn gawked at him and dropped her arms from around his neck in playful respite. "A _shower_? Us, _together_? You dirty, dirty boy."

"I'll carry you." He grinned at her.

"You're silly and I love it."

Another sliver of his inner armor melted away hearing her use the word 'silly'. He sat up, perched overtop of her. Conner lifted his shirt up and off and tossed it to the floor then he reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up. She raised her arms to aid him and he drew the shirt from her torso, tossing it to the floor along with his then leaned in, pressing his muzzle against her jawline, working his way down. "Damn you're beautiful. Vous etes belle; resplendissante, envoutante! Tu est a craquer, tu est tres jolie; je t'aime cherie, je t'aime poupee. Je t'adore," he bantered the muffled phrases against her neck, causing her to grow giddy, hearing him lavish her in sweet French phrasings, none of which she understood.

His arms moved about her, carefully unclasping the fastening of her bra. She arched her back to make it easier then opened her arms to let him pull it away. It went discarded on the floor with the shirts. He nibbled his way down to her tummy, using his teeth to pry open her pants. The button opened and he reached for both the waistline of her jeans as well as the waistband of her panties, tugging down both in unison. Finally, he snagged her socks and tossed them over his shoulder. One landed on the television, the other landed on the floor in front of the dresser.

She sat up quickly and reached for his own pants, helping to jerk them down as if frantic. They went to his ankles. He slid to the floor and kicked them off then eased his left arm beneath her legs and his right arm beneath her shoulder blades. He lifted her from the bed and she draped her left arm around his neck and snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. Conner carried her to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind himself.

"I never told you," Dawn murmured. "You were amazing in London. I'm sorry I never told you that I was related to the girl we found there… She's a half-sister – same mother, different father. I grew up with daddy, so I didn't really _know_ her… but that was no reason to leave her rot in there… I had to do something. When I saw your work in the casino, I knew you were the only one able to help."

Conner smiled. "Shh, you don't owe me an apology. I'm glad I was able to help." He lowered his left arm and her feet met the bathroom rug. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. With that, the female raccoon turned about and bent over the bathtub to adjust the water controls. She lifted her tail only somewhat, just to be a tease.

With a lick of the lips, Conner moved towards her, playfully placing his paws on either side of her hips. "I thought we were going to take a shower to cool our jets, like last time?"

"We are," she replied in a faux innocent tone. "I just wanted to set the water temperature." She shifted her weight to her right foot and lifted her left, remaining playful. Her red-painted toenails gleamed in the bathroom lighting. Quite suddenly, the lights went out. "Quite a storm…"

"Aw, man… so much for a hot shower."

She stood up, leaning her back against him, flush to his chest. "The hot water heater should retain enough heat for us to take a decent bath – I'm sure the lights will be back before we even finish."

"I still wanted to be able to look at you."

"There's time for that – we have the rest of our lives, right?" She reached a paw down and gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. "C'mon, help me soap all those hard-to-reach places, loverboy. Then you can whisper some more of that French chatter into my ear."

Cooper chuckled softly, "You liked that, huh? I got caught up in the moment and out it came. I wasn't speaking very proper, to be honest, and…" He paused, feeling a fingertip against his lips. Then, a guiding paw slid up his chest, moved to his shoulder, down his arm then finally clasped his wrist. She guided him forward. He stepped over the rim of the tub, and into the hot water.

Next, he felt himself guided back until he was flush against the wall. She pressed herself against him chest to chest and kissed him. It was surprisingly erotic in the dark and he wrapped his left arm around her, using his right paw to reach for the body wash he recalled seeing on a wall tray. It took a moment of groping but he finally found it and broke the sticker seal on the cap.

Conner overturned the bottle, dumping some of the contents on her shoulders. He closed the cap and dropped it somewhere in the tub then used his paws to lather the soapy liquid into the fur of her back. His muzzle parted, accepting her probing tongue; he murred against her lips.

In the darkness, Dawn felt something brush against her thighs and shuddered at the assumption of what she felt. She reached a paw down to see if she was right and secretly blushed when she heard him moan. His paws were all over her, touching, lathering the liquid body wash soap into the fur of her back. She was overheated and completely ramped up. The kiss ended and she gulped for fresh air, feeling weak in the knees.

"Earlier, when I spoke to you in French," he whispered in a tender done, "I told you that I love you… I know it's too soon – but… Sergei and I had a man-to-man, this morning… He agrees that when a man _knows_ he's with the right one, it's obvious; even after spending only two weeks together."

"We've been though a lot, together. More in two weeks than the average couple goes through in a life time."

"That's what _he_ said," replied Conner. He shivered at the feel of her touch, below his naval. Her paw began a slow rhythmic movement, tender yet firm ministrations that had him riled up in a brief moment. "I won't go spouting it all the time, it's a sacred phrase at this point… but it's how I feel."

Dawn placed her other paw on the side of his face. She kissed his nose tenderly and said, "I actually fell in love with you _today_. We were talking about computers earlier… and I realized just how much we have in common. I could easily imagine spending forever with you; you're easy on the eyes and easy on my heart."

Her touch intensified and he found himself actually squirming in response to her physical attention. Her lips found his and he opened his muzzle just in time to receive her tongue again. Her free paw found his and she guided his inexperienced touch down to help him return the favor to her …

* * *

_Hours later…_

**The large window on the far wall naturally **illuminated the dining room. In the distance, even through the hard rain, they could see the ocean. The decorative wooden frame was difficult to discern from the mishmash of layered masking tape covering the glass. Chairs were stacked up in front of sections of the glass window, from one wall to the other, just in case the hurricane winds were to shatter it.

Dawn and Conner stepped into the dining hall together. "That can't be safe," she said softly. "But it's better than the ballroom, with no lights at _all_." A lone table sat in the middle of the room with four chairs around it. She took out her cell phone and checked the time then said, "We're a few minutes early."

Conner pulled out a chair for her and she settled into it. He then moved to an adjacent chair and sat down, his back facing the window so he could keep an eye on the entrance to the hall. "I wonder… I mean, our mystery guest said _four_. I wonder who the fourth person is."

"He's a rich guy, Conner. It's probably his girlfriend."

"If she's anything like you, he's a very lucky guy." Conner grinned, reaching under the table to give her knee a tender squeeze. He took a moment to reflect on their intimate moment shared in the shower a little while ago. He shivered at the arousing memory then pushed it aside to remain sharp and ready to meet their guests.

"You always say the right things," she replied, placing her paw atop of his and stroking his knuckles gently. "You look nice." She lifted her paw and reached to adjust the lay of his tie.

"Thanks, so do you." He lifted his chin to give her better access to his tie then offered her a smile. Just then, the outline of a man stepped into the doorway. Conner could barely make out the shape of his tail, his figure and the lay of an expensive suit. In a soft voice, he said, "Our new friend is here."

Kalen opened both wooden doors and stepped aside. A woman clad in a dress coat, matching business-like skirt and a fancy hat stepped into the room. Kalen pulled the doors shut and walked with her to the table. He stepped behind her and waited for her to open her fancy jacket. She opened her arms and the jackal removed her coat then draped it over his arm. He walked to one of the chairs and laid it over the backrest then held his hands out for her hat.

Conner looked up at the woman as she removed the red brimmed hat. In the dim illumination, his eyes met with those of his sister, Carmen Cooper. He felt his chest tighten up. Dawn's paw cupped beneath his jaw, guiding it shut. Jealousy stirred in her heart, secretly appalled by the way he was gaping. She gave his ankle a swift kick to snap him out of his moment of shock.

Conner's girlfriend rolled her eyes at his lack of response to her kick. "Pardon his stupor," she announced, reaching her paw towards the woman. "I'm Dawn."

The woman took her paw in a firm shake and replied, "I'm his sister, Carmen S. Cooper. A pleasure to meet my kid-brother's first girlfriend."

The jealousy in Dawn's chest disappeared, just as quickly she gasped in surprise, mirroring Conner's reaction. "Oh my _God_. I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

Kalen settled into his chair and took Carmen's paw. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Kalen Vai. And, of course, you both already know my Fiancé – she certainly required no introduction from _me_; it's a pleasure to formally meet you both. I've heard a lot of impressive things about you, Conner. You see, Carmen and I know why you're both here… When I overheard the man at the desk announce your name aloud, I knew I couldn't let him charge you that ridiculous price. After that, I excused myself because I wanted to address your arrival to Carmen."

"It's an awkward predicament," she mused, looking from her younger brother to the girl adjacent to him. "I guess you've technically caught me in a lie, Conner. As you can plainly see, I'm not in college at this very moment. I'm sorry, I didn't want to lead you on but… please don't tell mom and dad. They would disapprove of me turning down a scholarship like that."

"What is it that you really do? I mean, you don't have to skip out on an education just because you're marrying some rich guy." He cut his gaze to Kalen and offered a slight smile. "No offence, sir."

"None taken," replied the jackal with a nod.

"Conner, I'm not exactly at liberty to go into all the details right now. Just know that when I told you mom and dad were alive and well, I knew from personal experience. And, with that, I think it's best you should go home and relax. I promise I'll take care of everything."

"No, we work as a team or we work separately. Either way, I'm here and I've assembled a group that's capable of doing anything that needs to be done. I'm ready for this."

She shook her head slowly, as if in defeat. "Conner, this wasn't a big deal two weeks ago… but things have changed since our parents left Russia. Trust me, this is over your head."

"We can handle it," he replied adamantly.

"Where's your team?"

He reached beneath the table, taking Dawn's paw for support and empowerment. "I've told them to lay low while Dawn and I do some reconnaissance around Miami. What do you know?"

Carmen sighed softly. "I know that this is too dangerous for a fourteen year old. I'm sorry I never introduced Kalen to you but trust me when I tell you that he and I are qualified to assist mom and dad. They've gotten themselves into a rather sticky situation and I can't have you getting yourself hurt. They would never forgive me if I didn't stop you from leaping into this… _mess_."

"I'm not going anywhere. And don't even try to stop by my room and grab that cane. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead paws."

Carmen's muzzle contorted into a moue of disgust. "That's a bit on the dramatic side, sweetheart. I'm sending you home, because I don't _want_ to pry that cane from your _cold, dead paws_. Do you understand? I don't want you in danger."

Conner grew silent for a moment. He leaned towards Dawn and whispered into her ear. "Just bare with me – let me tell her what she wants to hear." He cleared his throat, sat up straight and announced, "Sissy, you're right. I thought you were here to take the cane and finish the job, but it sounds like I was wrong to jump to conclusions." He sighed then drew in a long, slow breath and nodded. "You're right, what else can I say? But here's the thing… there's a second storm system coming in behind the first. Unfortunately, I'm kind of stranded here for a week. So, I promise not to get into your way if you promise to at least let me feel _useful_, okay? When the weather clears up, I'll head north, catch a plane back to France and all that good stuff… hopefully, we'll have found mom and dad before that happens and everything will be just fine."

This time, Carmen grew quiet. After a moment to ponder his words, she nodded. "Very well. Stay out of our way."

"Incidentally, how can you be so sure that your…" he grimaced at having found out in this fashion and said the word, "_betrothed_… is capable of helping you if it's as dangerous as you claim? He's not a Cooper – he hasn't been trained to handle situations like this."

Carmen closed her eyes and shook her head. "Tell them, love."

Kalen glanced around furtively then lifted his left wrist from beneath the table. "This is highly irregular – are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Just do it – he'll worry unless he knows. Once he knows, and he stops worrying, he'll believe me and go home without trying to sneak off and stir up the mix."

"Very well." Kalen didn't appear to be pleased but conceded to her whim. He rolled up his jacket sleeve then removed the cufflink from his shirt and pushed up cuff. "What you see is _not_ to be talked about, do you understand?"

"He can keep a secret," said Carmen. She and Kalen faced Dawn.

Conner quickly came to Dawn's defense. "Dawn is so good at keeping secrets that, outside of our team, you two are the _only _people in the _world_ who even know she's alive. That stays between us, do _you_ understand?"

"Fair enough," replied Carmen. "Show them, mon ange."

Kalen brought his wrist to his muzzle and pushed his fangs into the flesh and fur all the way. Dawn flinched, tightening her grip on Conner's wrist beneath the table. She remained otherwise stoic in response to Kalen's actions.

The jackal slowly removed his fangs from his forearm, using his tongue to dab at the double puncture markings. He then licked the blood from his teeth, readjusted the rolled cuffs and offered his arm across the table, palm-side up. "The marks are gone."

Conner cut his eyes to his sister, then back to Kalen and finally returned his eyes to his sister. He stood up, walked around the table to her and grasped his sister's neck, using his thumb to brush the soft veneer of fur apart until he found two slight marks on her throat. "What… the _hell_? You're _biting_ my sister? So what the hell is the deal? You heal yourself but that little tongue-licking shit doesn't work on her neck, huh? Vampires aren't real, you goddamn freak – what if you accidentally bit her carotid artery or jugular vein? Did you think about that, you weirdo pervert?"

"Conner," she reached for her brother's wrist, squeezing in a reassuring manner. "No, he's not some guy who pretends to sleep in a coffin, drive a hearse or run around flapping his arms like a bat in the night. He _really is _an immortal vampire. He's had several wives and outlived all of them – I'll be no exception to that, when we marry. _Yes_ he can walk into the daylight but he can't sunbathe, especially if he's been seriously wounded and becomes weak. He and I work together. What mom and dad have uncovered goes a little beyond belief; Kalen is willing to help me straighten this whole mess out. I'm here because they're my parents, he's here to shield me from the lethality of my mortality."

"They're _my_ parents, too," said Conner, frustrated. "I don't want him _biting_ my _f_xxx_ing_ _sister_."

Carmen stood up and abruptly backhanded him across the face. "I'm your _sister_. You do _not_ talk that way to _me_. I don't know where you got your filthy language from, but I'm a lady and you'll treat me with respect – twice fold, because we're blood relation. He _is_ a very _real_ vampire. I don't _care_ if you choose not to believe it. In fact, it's in _his benefit_ if you don't believe it. Also, I _asked_ him to bite me, because I _enjoyed_ it. It's like acupuncture, and surprisingly _er_…" She paused before she could actually say the word, 'erotic' to her younger brother.

With a sigh, Carmen sat back down and folded her paws over her lap. "Conner, we're in love. _Very_ in love, all right? I need you to be mature about this and relax. I appreciate that you're being so very protective over me, but you need to calm down before you do what you did in the workout room… do you remember?"

"All I remember is that the lights went out and the shock pistol battery went dead."

"Exactly." Carmen nodded, gesturing to his seat. "You can stay, but believe me when I tell you… one, Kalen will not _accidentally_ _kill me_. Two, I do _not_ want either of you to get in our way. We'll think of something safe to keep you occupied but when things get dangerous, I want you to stay back and lay low. If you distract me, you'll be putting _me_ in danger. Finally, what Kalen and I do is _not_ of your concern. I'm not here to make suggestions about you and Dawn so I would appreciate it if you do not call to attention the fact that there are two marks on my neck. They will heal. Kalen's puncture marks on his wrist disappear because _he_ can heal his _own _body."

Kalen interjected, "I dabbed the wound with my tongue to promote scar tissue. It takes a few seconds to heal a puncture wound and I didn't want to gush blood on the tablecloth. I assure you, Conner, I have no intentions of harming Carmen. I adore her. We've been lovers for a year now."

"Great," said Conner with a groan. He moved back to his seat. "So that means she was a minor when you took her as your 'lover'. That's pretty messed up, dude. What, are you some kind of pedophile with cosmetic dental surgery?"

"When I was embraced into un-life," Kalen began, "I was seventeen. I'd been married for two years at the time and my wife was dying of tuberculosis… Only we didn't have a name for that sickness back when this happened. I was coughing, because I was afflicted with the same ailment. I was saved only because of a chance run in, where I inadvertently rescued my parent vampire. He was lying in the river, injured and starving, unable to heal his injuries because he'd not fed. I didn't know he was supernatural… I'd only gone down to the river to get my wife a bucket full of fresh water; she was far worse off than I… When I found him, I put him over my shoulder, gathered the water and carried him home. He fed from me. Then he fed from other townsfolk the next evening.

"Upon complete restoration to full health, he watched me struggle with her sickness and, also, watched _me_ grow sicker. She died. I began to grow distraught and feared my _own _death at such a young age. Perhaps it wasn't very romantic of me – some spouses want to die so they could join their departed mate… I simply was not ready to die yet. He took pity on me and embraced me. I've _never_ embraced anyone else. That's not my choice to make."

Conner shook his head. "Let's say, regardless of the fact that I don't believe you, let's just _say_ that this crap is real and you're being honest. Now, you've already bitten her, so you just lied about not turning anyone. Now, talk your way out of _that_ mess."

Carmen sighed. "Conner, you're capable of acting more mature than your age… right now, you're acting _half_ your age."

Kalen placed a gentle paw upon Carmen's wrist with a subtle smile. "It doesn't matter whether or not he believes – that doesn't change reality." He turned his head back to Conner and said, "To change someone, the vampire has to bleed them dry… then replace their blood with the vampire's own… after the transformation, the newly created vampire will be starving and need to feed for the first time. I refuse to create another unless they're on their deathbed and beg me… and only if I already deem them worthy to be responsible enough for such a thing as immortality. I've watched several wives grow old and pass away. The oldest lived to ninety-eight years of age."

"We worked together and met on the job," said Carmen, remaining careful about what details she offered. "We were able to finish one another's sentences. We knew early on that we were soul mates. Sometimes, when it's the right person, you just _know_. All I'm asking of you is to accept this with humility. Be humble. Show me that you're a mature man, Conner. Please – we're in _love_."

Conner sighed, remembering the same conversation he'd had with Sergei about Dawn earlier that morning. "I hate to use this as some sort of exploitation tactic but… I'm staying until we find mom and dad. And if you chase me off, I'm telling mom about the bite marks on your neck. Simple as that." He cut his gaze to Kalen and said, "And if your kind is anything like the hopping vampires from China (Sly3), mom and dad will cut you into kibble faster than you can say, "I'm immortal!" I'm staying and that's _final_." He turned his head back to Carmen and said, "The whole neck biting thing is _weird_. Yuck; that's gross. Get a clue – real life, Carmen. I don't have the power to short out electronic devices, and he's not an immortal, sustained on the blood of the living or any of that crap. You call _me_ immature, but you're the one living in a fantasy world. I need to go upstairs and relax." He kissed the side of Dawn's face. "If you'll excuse me… I just need a minute to be nasty to the walls."

Conner left the room. Dawn watched him go then turned back to Kalen and Carmen. "He's disrupted energy devices _more_ than once? I need details, so I can better understand it. It's happened before, when he was around me."

"Really?" Carmen sat up more.

"Whenever he gets upset, I think." Dawn frowned then turned to Kalen. "And, no offense… but I'm not going to believe you either, until I see some genuine proof. The whole magic-wrist trick doesn't do it for me." She turned back to Carmen and smiled. "Your man is a looker but he isn't very convincing. Let's go take a walk and we'll talk about your brother… compare notes and all that."

Carmen stood up, retrieved her hat and her jacket, draping them over her left arm. "Kalen, my love… would you please excuse us?" She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He stood up and pushed in his chair. "I'll be in our suite – to be honest, that went better than I expected. See you shortly." He headed for the door, fixing the lay of his shirtsleeve and reattaching the cufflink as he walked.

Dawn gestured forward with a sweeping paw motion. "Shall we? Lead the way. Let's go somewhere quiet."

"Indeed." She motioned with her own paw. "Right this way. And don't worry: I'm not going to be some overbearing older sister who treats either of you any certain way. What you two do in private should remain private and I respect that."

"It doesn't matter," said Dawn with a slight grin. She paused to reflect on the steamy session during their shower, earlier. "We've agreed not to go _all the way_. It's too soon, you know? Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz. We've discussed it and we feel it's for the best. Where are we going?"

"Upstairs, they have a private arboretum. The glass walls are thick enough to be bulletproof. We don't have to worry about the intensity of the storm, there."

Dawn nodded in reply. "Fair enough, to the stairs – lead the way."

* * *

A/N: _Okay! So Conner and Dawn are comfortable enough to make their 'moments' more than just a 'one time thing'. That does NOT mean I'm going to write about them getting frisky every five minutes because then it will lose its special meaning (while, in contrast, I think EVERY TIME with them will be meaningful to one another). However, I felt inclined to show that they're growing more comfortable as mates just by showing a little more intimacy. Conner is about to turn 15, very soon during the course of this story. Yes, Kalen is a supernatural and some of that will tie back to Lament of Carmelita. The bizarre wintertime hurricanes DO have something to do with the plotline! YES this story will start to tie back into Sly Cooper (and hopefully inspire me to finish it with ease, instead of struggling to figure out where I want to go, LOL). _

_Okay, so Conner got a little childish and conned his sister into letting him stay with the most popular phrase any little sibling ever uttered to an older sibling… "If you don't let me do "BLANK", I'll tell mom "BLANK" and she'll get very "BLANK". I mean, c'mon now, he's fourteen, no matter how mature he is for his age… he's still fourteen, and the threat of being a tattle tale can usually weigh in pretty strong! Lol_

_I was NOT planning on bringing Carmen in this soon. I also did NOT plan on doing it quite so bluntly. I wanted her to be more mysterious. I wanted Conner to find a few clues, like the red threads back in chapter one. But sometimes my fingers have a mind of their own and before you know it, they write something ELSE… but it keeps ALL of us guessing… so ANYONE who says my stories are cut-and-paste generic, and they're able to guess what's about to happen every step of the way… well… you're better than me; I have NO IDEA what's going to happen next, LOL! I just sit down, clear my mind and WRITE… and if I don't like it… I trash it and do it again… and it's usually different EVERY single time. I also do NOT intend for Conner and Dawn's relationship to sound trashy. Yeah, it was a little intense this time. I came close to deleting it, because I did not rate this story as mature… however, after recalling that literally HUNDREDS of pg-13 movies (any Tom Cruise movie from the 80s, for example) has a full-on sex scene… I reminded myself that PG-13 and 'T' are generally the same rating. You won't see any expressly explicit material, no full-on sex, penetration scenes, mentioning of explicit body parts, etc. From here on out their intimate scenes will be written with more metaphors and less blunt description. Why? Because they're in love and I want their actions to show their feelings. I want it to be more about the emotional side, and less about the lust part. YES, in a relationship you lust the person you love, but I don't want to focus on the lust part, because I want to portray them more romantically and less lewdly. AND STUFF!_

_Okay, see you all again very soon! _

-K

PS: Sorry the chapter was so long! I had a lot to say! xD


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: _Because I can't reply directly to anonymous reviews unless the person leaves an email address, I'd like to reply to GRANT. Wow – you're actually right on the money, bud. It's actually scary how accurate your review is – I was half-way explaining that to several reviewers over the last two days and BAM, you come right out and nail it; I should have just directed my reviewers to your guess-explanation, because you freakin' put the three stories together about as well as I could have explained, myself. And yes, I actually HAD planned on having Kalen help Dawn and Conner for a while without revealing himself… then later on, he was going to take a round of bullets and double over… Conner was going to dispatch the gunner and Carmen was going to run out from her localized hiding spot and go to Kalen's aid, only for him to stand up, pluck the buckshot out of his skin, heal himself and simply say, "I need to feed." But in order to build him up as a character and put time and effort into that aspect of stuff… it would have pushed back finding Sly and Carmelita and it would have extended the story TOO much. I have too much I kinda' wanna' do to make this stuff happen that far into the story. So, I had Carmen decide to show up, put the cards on the table and EXPECT Conner to accept it. Conner was all, "WTF? BS!" and storms off in anger, because he doesn't believe in the supernatural. And now we can move on and get our crap together and find Sly and Carmelita! Although, first… Conner has to storm off to clear his head… why does a Cooper do to clear his thoughts? Practice! Now we get to see Conner do a practice heist, alone, just for personal entertainment. It should be interesting, in consideration of how dicey the weather is growing… _

_So far as my 'timing' issue involving Kalen… that's just how I roll! SURPRISE! Every once in a while, I like to throw in something that makes people go, "WHAT? Where did THAT come from?" _

_This chapter is probably not one of those times. A lot of you are probably expecting me to show of Kalen and prove whether or not he's really what he claims to be. Well, yeah… but instead of having him simply prove himself, he's going to prove to the reader that immortality can still mean imperfect. Let's see what happens. _

_Warning: There are more graphic fighting details in this chapter. Just letting you know ahead of time._

_

* * *

  
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Chapter -13-

**The warm wind** and cool rain weighed down Conner's shirt and pants. The rosin on his paws turned to a gritty paste, leaving a yellowish residue on the handle of his cane. He leapt from the top of a building, latched onto a horizontally mounted flagpole across the street then vaulted up to a ledge on the seventh floor. Now on the next building over, the raccoon began a wet ascension of the building until he reached the ninth floor ledge.

He stood up and put his back to the pinkish granite then moved around to the west side. He bent his knees, placed his right foot back against the wall then leapt forward. Again, Conner lifted his cane. The hooked end snagged on the concrete lip in front of a sixth story window. He put his feet against the wall then pushed off hard, back-flipping his way upwards. Cooper closed his left paw around a flagpole similar to the one on the last building. The Floridian flag, soaked and twisted in the wind, swished back and clung to his wet clothing.

Arching his body, Conner pulled down on the flagpole until it bent to nearly ninety degrees. Keeping a foot against the base of the pole, he bent backwards until it was stretched to capacity. He kicked his feet out and the pole slung upwards wildly, hurdling him skyward. Vaulted up to the tenth story ledge, he jerked the cane forward and hooked the sill of a window then scampered up the golden pole and onto the ledge.

Conner made his way around to the north wall and looked down on the rooftop of an eight-story building. The grainy top, covered in water from the collected rainfall, appeared to glisten. The teen reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large rubber band. A jumbo fastening, he was able to pull it over his body so that it was tight around his torso. He reached down for his tail then pulled it up and hooked it into the band around his upper chest, just beneath his arms. After a deep breath followed by a moment to meditate, he dove forward in a loose somersault.

With a grunt, Cooper landed on his tail. The momentum carried him forward in a gymnast's roll. He came to a stop on one knee, planting the hilt of his cane into the textured rooftop. His head panned from left to right. An access panel hid behind an air conditioning unit, just beyond his direct line of sight. His head lifted; all the buildings around this one were taller, leaving only an eight-story drop to the street as his secondary viable means of escape. "I need a parasail," he groused softly, under the roar of the wind and rain. Having used his tail as a cushion to break his fall, the rubber band was now useless. Conner wiggled it down his torso, over his legs and off. The teenager bunched it up and put it into his back pocket.

He scouted the roof until locating the access panel and withdrew a lantern battery from his pocket. Using a small roll of water-resistant electrical tape, he covered the coils then used his cane to pry open the hatch but he didn't open it all the way.

Pulling the hatch plate several inches ajar, he studied it, blinking away rain from his eyes, then grinned. Conner put his cane down and pushed a paw into his pocket. He fished out two pieces of copper wire and pushed one end into the taped coil on the battery's negative connector. He ran the copper lead to the metal plate barely visible on the hatch panel and used another strip of water resistant tape to fasten the lead to the panel. He then used his last piece of copper strip and filtered it in through a narrow section where the access hatch was slightly ajar.

Next, he pushed the other end of the metallic lead into the positive coil, puncturing the tape wrapped around it. He wiggled the other end of the lead through the corner of the hatch then pulled it back out and bent the end. He eased it back into the narrow opening, guiding it until he felt it was touching the other metallic panel of the alarm system. Pleased with his results, he opened the panel all the way, using a steady hand to keep the copper lead against the second panel in the hatch frame.

He pulled another piece of tape from the roll, bit it off with his teeth then applied it to the strip in the frame. Conner grabbed his cane, tossed it into the hatch then wiggled down to the ladder. He descended several rungs then reached up and pulled the hatch shut, yanking the battery, his copper ends and his tape from the connectors, without setting off the security system. He pocketed his pieces of gear then dropped from the ladder and landed on the floor, bending his knees to absorb the impact of his fall.

The crouched raccoon grabbed his cane and stood up, scouting the storage room. He took his shirt off and rang it out tightly then gave it a stern shake. He pulled the dampened shirt back on then stripped off his pants and boxers, quickly ringing them out and putting them back on. Cane in hand, Conner headed out from behind the storage crates and took the stairs down to the seventh floor. His eyes sparkled, seeing rows of historical artifacts and displays lining the wall. He craned his neck, staying in the doorway of the staircase, to see if there was anything good on this floor.

Conner made his way down to the sixth floor and opened the door, peeking out to see what displays were worth his attention. He opened his cell phone and used the internet to look up information on twelfth century weapons. With the extreme weather and power grid fluctuations, his cellular network showed low reception for internet use and nearly zero reception for all non-data related applications. A small box on the screen read, "Unavailable: Phone use, text messaging, video conference, voicemail access." He turned the phone sideways and accessed the internet, quickly searching to see if anything was worth his time on this floor.

Nothing appealed to him so he headed down the stairs to the fifth floor. The exhibit closest to the stairs grabbed his attention from the get-go. Lost Civil War treasures recovered from a sunken ship off the coast… His eyes shimmered with glee. "Jackpot." He lifted his cane, using the arched top to push a security camera above the stairway door so that it was facing the ceiling.

He stopped at the end of the hallway and reached his cane out, pushing up another camera at the corner by pulling the hook down on the coaxial cable protruding from the back of the unit. It swiveled on the base, facing the ceiling.

On the right hand side, an exhibit labeled, 'French coins donated to the Confederate cause,' beckoned to him. A grin formed at the corner of his muzzle. "Don't mind if I do – I'm sure France wants a return on their investment after all these years." He wrapped his knuckles against the clear panel between him and the gold pieces. "Plexiglas? How bizarre."

He drew back his cane and swung it like a bat. It connected with the clear surface, which absorbed the impact, bending in slightly then flexing back out without so much as a scratch. A blink then he chuckled. "Nice touch." He pushed his knuckles into the glass, forcing it to flex again then pushed upwards, causing the panel to slip out of the grooved wooden track on either side of the exhibit. He moved to the end and took the panel firmly between his palms, careful not to let his fingertips touch the surface.

After removing the panel, he set it on the floor, leaning it up against the wall then plucked out each and every French coin on display. The sound of a single footstep caught his attention and his ears perked. Next, the sound of a metallic click caused his heart to pause for an instant. He knew the sound – a safety switch on a gun. He drew in a slow breath and shook his head, silently scolding himself for whatever mistake lead to him getting caught. "Y'got me, law man. You wouldn't put a hole in a minor, though… would you?"

The man spoke with a Hispanic accent. "That depends on you, kid."

Conner continued to speak in English for now. "I didn't know this museum had armed security – I, uh…" He paused then cleared his throat and said, "I'm in a gang, and this was part of initiation, man." A simple lie, no harm done.

"I don't give a damn, culero. Turn around, kid."

Conner shook his head and remained facing the exhibit. He knew the best possible way to fix the situation was to let the guy attempt to put on cuffs, first. "I'll put my paws behind my back and you can cuff them, buddy. I don't want trouble."

The man grumbled under his breath. "Eres pendejo o nomas te ases." He took a slow breath then cocked his weapon. "Turn around, pedezo de mierda. Now, puta."

Conner chuckled softly. "Wow, you've got to be one of the most offensive people to ever work at a museum. Look, buddy – just slap the cuffs on me, we're cool. I came out here to flex a little. C'mon. I didn't mean to storm the place like my name was El Niño. I give up and all that stuff, just cuff me, buddy."

"TURN AROUND! Last time."

With a sigh of frustration, he turned around. The raccoon's eyes widened. The man with the gun wore a damp skullcap with mismatched eyeholes cut into it, a flack jacket and pixilated looking camouflage. He had several weeks worth of beard growth developing along the bottom of his muzzle, which hinted out beneath the hem of the skullcap pulled down over his face. The raccoon started chuckling but it evolved into hysterical laughter.

"What 'chu laughin' at, carbon? Get your inutil little tail down on the ground, no me jodas, pinche idiota. ON THE FLOOR, pendejo!"

"Whoa, relax pal. I'm no threat to you. I'm just a young burglar, buddy. I didn't realize we were working the same job, slick. That's my bad – bad timing, y'know?" Conner pushed the coins into his pocket then lifted his arms outwards, as if using his hands to talk. He kept the cane in his right fist. "Okay, I'm going to put the cane down first, _then_ I'll get on the floor… nice and slow, right amigo?" He put the arch of the cane down on the ground, so it was inverse upright. Then, suddenly, he kicked the hook up. It caught beneath the weapon by the trigger guard. With ease, Conner yanked the gun from his hand, twirled the pole in the air then took it by the hilt and swung it like a bat. The hook, gun still attached, caught the man in his face, spinning him like a top.

The robber's head audibly snapped to the left and he dropped to the ground in silence. Conner rubbed his chin and approached the man slowly. "Aw, shoot, buddy… Are you dead…?" He knelt down and put fingers on the man's lumpy neck then grimaced. "God dammit, that was supposed to knock you out…" He closed his paw into a fist, opened his fingers then closed them again, repeating the motion three or four more times. "This complicates things." Another dead body… Third? Fourth? He was already starting to lose count, the adrenaline kept him from growing antsy. For now.

Conner laid the gun on the floor by the man's paw then climbed up on an exhibit in the middle of the room and unhooked several support cables from a cannon mounted vertically. After removing six out of seven support cables, the last one snapped from the weight and the large metal barrel fell to the floor with a jarring crash. Using his cane to pry it forward, he rolled the cannon barrel towards the body. Again, he wedged the cane beneath the barrel then, with a grunt of strain, he forced it up over the man's body until it was across the torso section. With a huff, Cooper wiped the back of his paw across his forehead.

"There, now it looks like this thing fell on you by accident. I guess you were the dumb crook with the bad luck, yeah? C'est la vie." He paused to peruse the situation. Conner eyed the fallen cannon barrel, the lay and how it pinned the man. He detached his emotions and circled the 'crime scene' to make sure it looked completely realistic then walked back to where the barrel initially landed on the floor. There was a light indentation on the ground. "Dammit… that's not going to fly with an investigator." He took the dead man's left leg and pulled, slowly but surly dragging him towards the indentation in the ground.

The need to cover his tracks and transform a self-defense homicide into what appeared to be an accident overtook his natural sense of humanity. "This wasn't supposed to happen this way. Why did I leave the damn hotel…?" He paced the area, looking at his options.

Conner then walked around to the other side of the man and grabbed his flack jacket by the shoulders. With a grunt, the raccoon pulled the body back a few inches, so the fabric of his clothes weren't bunched up, to conceal the fact that the man had been dragged. "Damn this is a lot of work." He cracked his knuckles and sighed. "Okay. I got a few coins, and caused trouble. Dammit, this was supposed to be a relaxing job to clear my mind."

He withdrew the gold coins from his pocket and shook his head. "No matter how I choose to get rid of these, it just implicates me – it freakin' puts me right here. Dammit. This place is done – I can't steal _anything_ here. Crap, what a _bust_." He tossed the pocket full of coins on the ground by the man's hip, opposite of his gun. "This money must be cursed – first it sat at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, then it caused _this_. Sorry Charlie, you're not getting your cash back just yet."

"Sorry _Charlie_? To whom do you speak?" The voice belonged to Kalen Vai.

Conner gritted his teeth then said, "Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte the Third – Emperor of France, the first titular president and the last monarch of the country. I was going to take these coins and drop'em off at a French museum but this isn't a theft anymore… There's a dead body – these coins would start a homicide investigation; they incriminate me. I didn't murder that guy; he was about to shoot me. I just hit him wrong."

The jackal folded his arms. "I'd say you hit him _correctly_. Ah, yes, Louis Napoleon – he reigned for about seventeen years and ten months, which includes the years of the American Civil War, yes?" He glanced about the room then offered the boy a smug grin. "Thus the Civil War exhibits – Florida played a decent but fairly unremembered role in this war, not just the Battle of Fort Brooke or the inconclusive Battle of Tampa, where no one so much as lost a single life. Eventually, a year after the Battle of Fort Brooke, Union forces occupied the fort… for three days. After which, they found Tampa boring and unimportant. They ultimately returned to help with reconstruction for several years."

"Shut up, I don't care. I have more pressing issues – like this guy on the floor."

"He is of no consequence. I wanted to speak with you – I had to follow your scent to the window of your bedroom and, believe me… tracking you through the storm was incredibly difficult."

"You probably set off the damn alarm system getting in here."

"I didn't have to," replied Kalen with a shrug. "The group of armed thieves on the first floor cut the main power through the sewer and overloaded the secondary generator by flooding the basement to cover their tracks. They've rerouted the tertiary power supply through a fuse relay panel – the exhibits retain their flood lighting, as if nothing was wrong."

Conner's eyes widened. "There are more people here? For some age-old immortal, you sure do know a lot of modern terminology."

"You thought I was anachronistic? That I use an abacus instead of operating a modern calculator application in my hip little cellular telephone? I'm young of mind, dear boy – I've always found it quite easy to evolve with the times and change with the exciting new fashions. I've always been fascinated by the latest technological advances. My first automobile came off of Mister Ford's brilliant new invention – the assembly line."

"Yeah, well stop _f_xxx_ing_ my sister, duchebag. I don't believe your cockamamie story and if I ever catch you treating her in a way I consider less than _perfect_…" He closed his paws into fists, opened them then repeated the motion several more times. "See that guy on the floor? You'll be next. Now piss off."

"We need to leave – in the short amount of time Carmen and Dawn have spent talking… they began exchanging information. With Dawn's help and Carmen's direction, they utilized the internet to determine the approximate location of your parents. They wish for all four of us to go on a field trip, following in the footprints left in the wake of your mother and father. If the cellular network wasn't acting up from the weather, you would have gotten her call."

"You're still a perverted liar and a conman." Conner smirked then asked, "If there are men downstairs, how do we get out of here?"

"We utilize stealth. If that fails, we try to simply walk out. If need be, we fight."

"Don't screw up – follow me so we don't get caught." Conner delivered a swift kick to the dead body's left boot. "Karma is a real pain in the neck, eh amigo?" He waved for Kalen to follow and backtracked to the stairs. One after the other, they descended to the bottom floor. Conner gave his cane a slow twirl, moving out into the hallway. He looked up and around for any cameras but upon finding one, he noted that Kalen was correct – they lacked power.

In a quiet voice, Kalen said, "They're armed – seven men, four handguns, three shotguns, the leader is carrying a phase pistol. It's similar to your mother's infamous shock pistol but the output is lethal."

"Yeah, they're nothing to mess with," agreed Conner in a foul tone. "Stop making small talk. Is _this_ what super powerful immortal vampires do? They chitchat? A little banter?"

"Aren't you the pithy one?" retorted the jackal. "You're stalling for time we don't have. Allow me to let you in on a secret, young man: never keep a lady waiting. We have _two_ ladies waiting for us back at the hotel. Need I remind you that you're surrounded by mortal peril, as well? Perhaps you prefer _this_ for banter: Let's get out of here, now."

The teenage raccoon sought to match wits. "Prattle, yammering… it almost sounds like immortal supernatural complaining. Wah, wah, wah – my pussy hurts. I didn't know vampires actually _menstruate_."

"Your tact is impeccable."

The youth smirked. "Your facetious replies are…" Conner looked up in time to see three men round the corner, entering their hallway. "…Crap! Go flap your cape at them, dumbass." He slammed the tip of his cane into the ground. A puff of thick gray smoke filled the hallway. He pivoted on his heel and shoved Kalen back. "Move before you're perforated!"

Loud footfalls filled the hallway. Conner retreated for the staircase, dashing through the door. He took two stairs at a time, making it as far as the third floor before pausing to listen. Silence. He peered over the wrap-around railing but no one followed him into the stairway. No Kalen, no gunmen. He waited on the steps for another moment then slowly descended, not sure of what to expect. He couldn't remember if the gunners had flash-suppressing silencers attached, but didn't think he'd seen any such attachment.

He eased the door open slowly then growled in frustration. All three men were aiming their weapons at the door from several feet away. They now had their guns pointed directly at him. "Don't even _think_ about moving," said one of them. "I'll blow you away, kid."

One of the men said to the other, "I thought you said this place was going to be empty? Deal with this brat, you two. I'm going to check on Mick – he's up on five, I think."

"He's dead," said Conner. "Cannon display fell on him – broken neck. Had I known you guys were workin' this gig today, I'd have picked a different venue. Simple misunderstanding. I'll be on my way and hit another place – the additional robberies in the area will throw cops by making them think it's a much bigger multi-point heist and it'll be easier for you guys to…"

"Shut up, kid." The leader, a militant-dressed tall man with broad shoulders, approached Conner in the doorway, pointing his fancy looking electronic pistol in the teen's face. "You want your head melted off? No? Then shut yer yap." Unlike the dead man upstairs, this particular one had a slight German dialect.

"Is that Frankfurt I hear in your voice?"

One of the other men gasped in shock then said, "Boss, he knows you? If he can identify us, he needs to die."

"Agreed," said the tall man with the sci-fi looking weapon. "Sorry kid, time to punch out." He backed away from Conner, keeping the weapon trained on the doorway and the raccoon within. "It's business, kid."

Kalen stepped from out of nowhere, standing between Conner and the three gunmen. He had a lit cigarette between his lips and withdrew it casually, breathing a plume of smoke through his nostrils. "We don't have time to play games." He glanced over his shoulder at Conner. "We're leaving – I refuse to make them wait any longer. Let's go – follow me, young man."

"Who the hell does this guy think he is?" said the second gunner with a light chuckle of disbelief. He holstered his pistol and pulled out his pump-action shotgun. "Screw it, I'll drop ya' both." He pulled the trigger, creating a deafening sound. Kalen merely flinched from the piercing noise then lowered his head. His right ear flickered.

The jackal grimaced, looking down at the red markings on his finely tailored suit. He lifted his head and pinched the cigarette from his lips. "I said, we'll be leaving – your unprovoked attack was unnecessary. Did I stutter?" Kalen drew in another slow drag from the cigarette. Smoke seeped out through the holes in his torso, back and front.

"Waste this mother f…" The phrasing was lost in the cacophony of gunshots, riddling Kalen's body. The sheer force of the bullets caused him to flinch and writhe, as if squirming while standing still. Conner watched in horror as they unloaded on his sister's fiancé to the point where several rounds even pierced fully through his body and passed outward behind him and into the wall. After a moment, their guns clicked empty. Kalen stood stoic before them while a crimson puddle gathered on the floor.

The jackal removed a broken watch from his left wrist and put it into his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at the speechless teenager then casually asked, "Was that enough proof for you? We need to go, now. We don't have time to waste. Follow me."

Stunned and in a state of emotional shock, Conner simply exclaimed, "Blood on the floor will lead investigators to search for another involved party. We've got to clean that crap up!"

Kalen approached the three men then walked right passed them. "We'll be flooding the first floor once we open the front entrance and prop the doors. It will wash away. Follow me, they're out of ammunition now and are perfectly harmless." He placed the cigarette back into his lips, walking to the end of the hallway, ignoring the gunners as if they didn't even exist.

Conner reluctantly stepped out of the stairway, cane in hand. Approaching the three stupefied men between the stairway and the exit, he offhandedly said, "Dramatic, isn't he?"

The first man pointed to the raccoon and said, "Grab him, he's just a kid."

"You don't want to do that," replied Kalen, turning about at the end of the hallway. He watched as two men grabbed Conner by his left and right arms, surrounding the youth. The third man approached him, reaching for the golden cane. Kalen shook his head slowly. "You truly do not wish to grab him like that. I said we're leaving – we have no wish to keep you from your work; please release the young man and carry on with your evening."

"Shut up!" exclaimed the apparent leader. "Mick is dead, that's not part of _our plan_. Someone has got to pay for this screw up!" He aimed the electronic weapon at Conner, placing the barrel against the side of the boy's head. "_This gun_ isn't out of ammunition, and I guarantee it works just as good… if not better… than normal rounds." He grinded the barrel against Conner's cheek then moved behind the teen, hooking his left arm against the raccoon's neck. The other two goons backed away from Cooper, giving their boss some room.

Conner brought his paws up, fingers against the backside of the man's left wrist. "Whoa, man, relax… it's going to be okay, we're cool, man…" He waited until he felt the gunner's chest relax against his back. Without warning, Conner brought his right paw up, snatching the front of the gun. A quick movement, he redirected the weapon forward. Young Cooper reached his left paw up, pushing it behind the fancy looking pistol then doubled over, using his rump to push the attacker backwards. With both his paws on the weapon, and hyper extending his body the raccoon managed to separate the pistol from his attacker's grip.

Holding tightly to the weapon, he then locked and tightened his right arm and pivoted, driving his right elbow back into the masked man's face. The attacker stumbled backwards until he was just the right distance for Cooper to thrust his right leg back, catching the man in his hip. The attacker crumbled forward. Conner shifted his weight, pointing the gun at the other two men. "Don't even move."

Just then, the remaining three gunmen came from the stairway, weapons drawn. "Cover the guy over there," shouted one of them, followed by, "The brat has a gun!"

The last gunman entered the hallway, approaching Kalen with his handgun drawn at shoulder height. "Don't move, prettyboy."

"He's got my charge pistol," said the first man to the other six, dusting himself off. He directed his tone towards Conner, adding, "Smooth moves for a kid. I guess I've underestimated you. But if you shoot my two guys, my other four will open up on you and your buddy. I don't know how he took shotgun blasts like that… but I have to wonder… will a gunshot to the face kill him?"

Conner gritted his teeth. "I told you, I don't want any trouble. I was working the wrong place at the wrong time. You're wasting valuable time. You have a dead body upstairs to move, or his remains will lead the cops right back to one of you guys. Don't you think you've got too much on your plates to deal with me?"

The leader smirked. He lifted his chin and said, "Okay, boys… let these two jokers have it!"

A blood-curdling scream caught everyone off guard. A second into the cry, it ceased abruptly. Everyone shifted their attention to the two men down by the exit. Kalen began walking up the hall towards the others. Behind him, the seventh gunner dropped to his knees. His gun fell to the ground and his paws lifted, clutching at his throat. A vibrant crimson geyser gushed from his neck, spraying the walls and floor. The man dropped to his side, still clutching his throat. He began to thrash wildly, his panicked gurgling sound overshadowed with death rattles as his lungs filled with fluid.

"Dios mio," murmured Conner, blinking at the macabre scene. The grim mosaic of sanguine liquid coated the hallway wall and collected in a pool on the floor. Kalen continued to walk up the hallway with quiet, confident steps.

"Hose'em!" shouted the first man, now unarmed.

The remaining three men opened fire. Conner dove to the floor, narrowly avoiding a barrage of gunfire. It hissed over his head in passing. Multiple rounds struck the jackal, pelting his body repeatedly. The teen watched him absorb round after round in what felt like an eternity. Finally, their guns clicked empty. "Weapon's dry," said one of them.

"This is some sort of goddamn trick!" shouted the first man. He reached into a netted section of his flack jacket, removed a grenade then jerked the pin out and threw it down the hall.

Conner's eyes widened. He scurried away on all-fours, slipping in the small puddle of blood left by Kalen from earlier. He careened into the floor and thrashed violently in an attempt to get proper footing.

Vai kicked the grenade up the hall then broke into a sudden sprint. He vaulted over Conner, grabbed the nearest man by his neck and lifted the man like a ragdoll. With unrealistic ease, Kalen hoisted the man into the air then slammed him into the floor, pushing his body against the grenade. The jackal knelt to one knee, pinning the man's writhing body against the small round object. It burst with a deafening noise. Fragmentation scraps ripped through the militant-dressed man, several of which pierced Kalen who acted at a secondary shield layer to the rest of the hallway.

The jackal stood up slowly. His left leg resembled a gruesome web of flesh and torn fabric from his pants. He turned to the next man and placed his paws on either side of the man's face. The attacker's muzzle dropped, repeatedly chanting, "No, no, no, wait, no!" The stoic canid shifted ever so slightly and used both paws to snap the man's neck.

The body fell to the ground with a thump. A soft gurgling sound came from the man's parted muzzle. His left foot twitched involuntarily. Kalen stepped over his form, approaching the leader and the three men back by the stairwell door.

"Who the hell are you?" cried the one who appeared to be in charge.

Kalen didn't respond. Instead, he brought his right paw forth in an uppercut but instead of using his fist, he jammed his claws into the man's chin. Kalen closed his fingers tightly as if grasping hold of fabric, then he pulled his fist back and thrust his arm up.

Brows furrowed with confusion, Conner blinked uncomprehendingly as Kalen's next victim squealed in insurmountable pain. His teenage mind quickly relived the instant of what he'd witnessed, creating a sensation of déjà vu. He watched Kalen elevate a paw upwards then, as realization struck, the raccoon teen looked away not wanting to see the gory scene. In one swift motion, and with relative ease, the jackal successfully used his claws to make an incision beneath the man's chin. Then, Kalen had closed his fingers to grip tightly and thrust his fist skyward, ripping the man's facial flesh clean from the muscle tissue. The attacker's eyes bulged forth, his jaw dropped open… the tearing sound was as gruesome as the unforgettable noises made by the victim; a guttural pig-like squeal.

"Enough!" shouted Conner.

Kalen simply replied, "Indeed." He opened his paw, dropping the tattered flesh and fur patch to the ground with a gooey 'plop'. He turned his attention to the three men, backing towards the stairway. "You three were simply doing as ordered and did not act of your own will; working like good little pawns. In the future, I suggest you find a different line of work, gentleman."

No one spoke out of fear. Kalen shook his head. "You three, carry the bodies out to the flooded streets, the current may carry them out to sea or tear them asunder. IF you do not dispose of these bodies properly, including the one on the fifth floor, their ties may implicate you to police investigators. Cover your tracks, gentlemen." He returned to Conner, lifting the teen up by the collar of his shirt. Cooper's feet found solid ground. The jackal cocked a brow. "Shocked? Or are you always seemingly so lugubrious? We're strapped for time, let's go – you slipped in blood. Now you'll have to clean up, first." He paused, then, "I require a change of clothes, myself." He lifted his left paw, holding the still-lit butt of a cigarette. He took another pull from it. Smoke poured out through the multitude of holes in his chest.

Conner brushed himself off, nearly trembling from having witnessed the display of wanton gore. "You're… a…" He looked for a fitting word but settled on, "A _monster_." He repeated himself, adding, "…Some sort of God forsaken _monster_ thing. What the hell did you _do_ to those men…?"

"We don't have time," replied Kalen. "If those other three men are done causing trouble, you and I must take our leave. Are you ready?"

Conner glanced back at the trio of survivors. The three of them appeared traumatized; the raccoon mirrored their fearful expressions. Conner glanced back at the dead attackers, utterly shocked by Kalen's display of grisly fatal strikes. Cooper lifted his cane off the floor and slid it into the holster on his back like some sort of medieval broadsword. "The DNA evidence splattered around this room alone is going to make the front page of every state-wide paper in existence. Most likely, this is going to the next level, national media attention. If you really _are_ some sort of supernatural creature, you've just brought a spotlight on us, you, and your kind."

"Will the police believe three thieves who botched their job?" Kalen smiled inwardly. "Even better, will the police believe these men who will claim a monstrous man came through, slashing throats and ripping faces off of mortal men? I highly doubt these three men will be taken seriously – they'll be arrested for the fate of their partners. Mortal society lacks imagination, you see. Their incredible claims will most likely warrant either a mistrial or send these men to the psych ward." Kalen glanced over his shoulder at the three cowering men by the stairwell and said, "Unless, of course, you three do a fantastic job of cleaning up."

"Fair enough," replied the teen, falling into step behind Kalen and heading towards the front doors. "That was over the top… let's uh… wait on the details; Carmen doesn't need to know you goofed up. She doesn't need to hear about this in full detail; believe me, she'll be angry with you if she finds out. Let's get back to the hotel and get you in the shower so we can get those bullets out of your body."

"While I appreciate you 'looking out' for my relationship with Carmen, hiding details is quite unnecessary."

"I'm not doing it for _you_, neck biter." Conner shook his head slowly. "Man, for someone who claims he's been around for ages, you sure don't have a clue, do ya'?" He pointed towards the door. "Let's get you cleaned up and pluck out those rounds, somehow. I should have tweezers and needle nose pliers in Dawn's tool bag."

Kalen offered a dubious expression as the two walked out into the rain. He lifted a paw then closed his fingers into a tight fist. The jackal tensed his entire body, grimacing as if in pain. Bloody pellets dropped into the ankle-deep water. The current caused the blood to swirl for an instant then disappear. Kalen continued to tense his body until several small rounds dropped into the water, along with the last of the buckshot. He placed a paw on the door and shoved it hard, breaking the retracting mechanism. He paused, letting water rush into the first floor of the museum then gestured with his other paw to continue. "I'll need to feed soon."

"Not from _her_," retorted the raccoon with a snarl. "The average body holds twelve pints of blood. It takes the average person one hundred eighty days to replenish a single pint, and you can live safely with just ten, but it's dangerous. I don't want her weak and tired because you got the munchies. Get the hell out of here, man – there has to be some logical scientific explanation for your little show back there. Maybe you even orchestrated it."

"You're giving me entirely too much credit – I had all but disemboweled several of those attackers. That cannot be orchestrated in the way in which you're suggesting."

Conner clinched his jaw and muttered, "I saw smoke come out of your chest when you inhaled from your cigarette."

"I began smoking about seventy-five years ago, in order to fit in with the popular American 'doo-wop' subculture. The ladies await our return, Conner. Did you retrieve anything for your efforts?"

"A lesson learned," replied the raccoon, reminded of his father's catch phrase so many times after the young boy had failed a thieving exercise. "I told you, I left the gold pieces up there. If I took them back to France, it would have opened up an investigation as to how they went from a room with a dead body to another country. It would help narrow down murder suspects, including anyone who traveled from America to France at the time of the occurrence. You've got to think like the good guys before you can act like a bad guy."

"Because you steal, you consider yourself an antagonist – a _bad guy_?"

Conner kicked his foot out as they walked, splashing the ankle deep rain runoff. "Yeah, but I know my place – I'm may be society's bad guy, but I'm not so bad in the bigger picture, so to speak."

"That's correct – you have your place in the broader scope of things. Did you know that there is a special artifact on display at that museum, right now?"

The teenager furrowed his brow, an expression that went unnoticed from his matted facial fur. "Is it what those guys were after?"

Vai walked without splashing, leaving a wide fan of wake in the rushing water behind him. "Most likely; it's why I allowed some of those men to live. I wish to find out if they're taking said artifact. Your timing at that museum is rather fateful, Conner. It's one of the material components needed in the collection of artifacts that are already missing all around the globe."

"You're saying my parents disappeared because they're chasing another _thief_?"

"They're hot on his trail," said Kalen. "I'm surprised we didn't see your parents at that museum – It's best that they weren't there, else they would have scared off that group of thieves. I'm equally surprised that we walked in on their heist. Those men, if they stay to finish the job, will help us by leaving a trail of metaphorical bread crumbs back to the man behind _all of this_."

"You're being awfully vague."

"It's a supernatural matter. Unfortunately, the last four members of the supernatural community to get involved in any of this… they were _all_ killed (during _Lament of Carmelita_); oddly enough, your parents were involved in _that_ as well," replied the gentleman with a slow shake of his head. He lowered his paws to his tattered dress jacket. "It's a good thing I wore black on black this afternoon."

Conner cocked an eyebrow.

The jackal removed his blazer and pushed the drenched fabric into the water that covered the streets. Red streaked off the coat in the current. Even through the wild downpour, Conner was able to see the blood runoff. Satisfied with his demonstration, Kalen lifted the coat from the ankle-deep water and replaced it on himself. "It's difficult to see that on black fabric, thus making it a good choice if you plan to bleed or be soaked in the blood of your victims."

"Jesus, dude!" Cooper lifted his paws outwards, shaking his head rapidly. "Listen to yourself! _Soaked in the blood of your victims_? You're dating my _sister_, you frickin' …animal! I saw the way you tore those guys apart – by comparison, she's a _soap bubble_. If you even flinch wrong, you would break her in half. Is that where you get your jollies? You like knowing you're able to end people's life… let alone your _mate's_ life with the flick of your wrist? Do you know how _sick_ that is?"

"Let me assure you Carmen is not as frail as you think." He smiled then shook his head. "…And no, she's not supernatural. I would never taint her soul like that."

"You're disgusting." Conner turned at the next intersection and, after another moment of walking, he approached the front entrance of the hotel. He tugged on the doors then growled. "It's sealed off because of the storm."

"The rear dock, Conner." Kalen headed to the end of the building and disappeared around the corner.

Conner gritted his teeth then gave the front door handle one last tug before heading off to find the jackal. Conner moved behind the building then up concrete steps, out of the water. He walked across the empty dock and, to his slight surprise, a small door at the end opened. Kalen stood in the doorway, waving him forth. "Come along, let's get cleaned up, shall we? Return to your room, take a shower then dry yourself – get dressed and be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Whatever."

* * *

**Dawn ran a finger down** the screen of her cell phone, killing time by using the internet to look up the metric prefix for computer sizes. _Bytes, kilobytes, megabytes, giga, tera, peta, exa, zetta, yotta, xona, weka, vunda, uda, treda, sorta, rinta, quexa, pepta, ocha, nena, minga, lumabytes. _The table only went to 'ten to the sixty-third power'. She frowned. Her eyes lifted from the phone, watching Carmen for a moment. The girl was as pretty as Conner was handsome.

The door to her bedroom opened and Conner stepped in. He was soaked to the bone. The teenager offered his girlfriend a meager smile, threw his holstered cane to the bedroom floor then headed straight for the bathroom. The shower hissed to life, followed by the jarring sound of guttering heaving.

Startled, Dawn threw her phone on the bed and rushed towards the bathroom door. Kalen entered next, standing in the doorway with torn, tattered clothing. Dawn froze in her place and Carmen looked up, her eyes widening with surprise.

"Kalen!" Carmen stood and calmly approached the jackal. "What happened to you?" The disbelief in her tone amounted to the worry in her heart, even with the knowledge that he was able to heal himself. She placed her paws on his chest as if to take comfort in the fact that he was whole, beneath her padded palms.

Dawn blinked then looked back at the bathroom door. She turned the handle and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind herself. "Are you okay?" she asked, trying to keep her voice down to some extent. "What the hell happened to you two?"

Conner, knelt in the dark, vomited into the toilet one more time before wiping his face with the backside of his sleeve. "I think I believe him, now."

"Pardon?" Dawn approached him, breathing through her mouth so as not to smell the sour bile. She placed a paw upon his shoulder, squinting in the dark. After only a few seconds, her natural nocturnal eyes allowed her to see his outline. "Conner, was he shot at or something?"

"Shotguns, handguns, a goddamn _grenade_… The explosion turned his leg into Swiss cheese; suddenly it heals and he's walking on it again." He trailed off, putting his face back into the toilet. The adrenaline thinning in his blood caused him to feel like a junky after the drugs wore off. He continued to cough, choke and throw up until there was nothing left. The teenager dry-heaved for a moment then gasped for breath. "He kills like it's natural for him. He slashed one guy's throat, ripped the _face_ off another man… he shielded me from various gunshots… he used one man to cover a grenade then pinned the man to the ground until it went off. His leg looked like a cobweb of flesh, connected together by strands of… I don't even _know_ what to call it."

"He looks _fine_, despite the tattered clothes."

"Trust me," said Conner, wheezing for breath, "I saw the whole thing – I'll never forget it." He crawled towards the shower, reaching for the hot lever. Even without the cold water turned up, the shower water was barely lukewarm. Without power, he'd have to forgo hot water. Dawn helped him over the rim of the tub. With her assistance, he stripped out of his soiled clothes and threw them into the sink.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Conner shivered in the cold. "That _thing_ has my sister's affections."

Meanwhile, out in the room, Carmen walked away from the bathroom door and folded her arms. "Kalen, he's _fourteen_. He's never seen what lies beneath the flesh of a living person. He's probably traumatized by your actions – you didn't need to _show off_, just to make him believe you!"

Kalen opened the bedroom door and gestured for her to follow him. Together, they walked back into their own room and the vampire made his way to their bathroom. He stripped the tattered black fabric rags from himself and threw them on the tile floor. "Carmen, I did not intend for him to watch my every action. It was intended for the men with weapons – they had guns trained on your brother. By using psychological shock, I was able to distract them by inundating their minds with a graphic display. They froze in fear, forgetting their target and, out of fear, took aim on _me_. They were rendered into absolute shock, disallowing them to shoot at Conner. I attempted to utilize some measure of choreography so that he wouldn't see very much… But, because he'd dropped to a crawling position, he was able to see more than I intended."

Carmen shook her head slowly with a sigh. "I'll need to talk to him. He's going to freak out – anyone would. _I _would have freaked out if I saw those things. I heard his voice through the door, Kalen… he's _afraid_ of you. If he's afraid _of_ you, he'll be afraid _for me_ being near you. That wasn't what I'd intended when I told you to show him your natural ability to heal."

"I don't mean to change the subject, love…" Kalen walked back out of the bathroom and into their personal suite, fully nude. He opened a hallway closet and removed a towel. "I believe those men were hired by the doctor to retrieve the stone tablet. I intended to scare them by killing four of their comrades. I left three men alive of their eight-person team. If they take the tablet back to the hiring agent, we'll be able to track it back to whoever is behind all of this. Out of fear for their lives, they're most likely scurrying about in an attempt to expedite their orders."

"I still cannot believe you killed three men in front of my little brother," she replied with a despondent sigh. After a moment, she looked up with a creased brow. "Eight men? If you killed four and left three alive, where is the last one?"

"Conner killed him." Kalen used the towel to dry the fur of his arms and upper chest. "Using the family cane. It was a most impressive display of ability for one so young and untrained in such ways."

"He _what_? He _killed a man_ with the _cane_?"

Kalen nodded, putting a foot up on a nearby ottoman. "Indeed. He used the hook to take the gun of his attacker then swung the cane, catching the man in his face. It broke the attacker's neck, effectively killing him with a single blow. Conner claimed it was an accident."

Carmen ran her fingers back through her hair. "He's _fourteen_. He just killed a man then saw you tear three more men into shreds. Try to empathize with his mentality – he's a scared little boy!"

"He's four years your junior, Carmen."

"The difference in mentality between a naïve fourteen year old and government-trained eighteen year old is _massive_, Kalen!" She walked to the mattress of their bed and dropped down on the edge, burying her face into her paws. "I didn't want him to leave France in the first place because I didn't want him exposed to this sort of thing. The real world is a cruel, ugly place full of horrible things. He wasn't old enough to understand all of this! I didn't want him exposed and now, what's worse, is the person who let him witness the tarnished, lewd and cruel reality of what life has to offer… the person who took away his innocence… was the very same man to whom I've given my heart… and now, he'll _fear you_. I don't want him to fear the man I love.

"I've seen the good in you and it shines through all the tarnished evils you've witnessed and caused in your long life. To me, that's a beautiful thing… but he doesn't understand – how can _anyone_ expect a fourteen year old to comprehend that sort of stuff? It will affect him in a way that worries me. Kalen, he's my brother and I _love him_. I care for him and I care for his heart and his mentality. I care for his wellbeing. I'm very protective of him."

Kalen continued to towel-dry himself, working on his other leg then his tail. "Carmen, I'm sorry. The intricate details in scaring these God-fearing mercenary thieves into leading us to the source of this situation… " He trailed off for a moment then said, "I focused on ensuring they would comprehend the severity of their actions. Instead of selling the artifact like the greedy people in Perth, these men are more likely to rush this particular piece back to the hiring agent so they can go into hiding. I deeply regret what your brother saw. You warned him to leave America; I wish we could make him listen. I underestimated his ability to be stubborn."

"You underestimated one other fact," she told her mate with a frown. "He's naïve… innocent. Beneath his talents and ability to protect himself with that cane… beneath his game face, his squinted eyes and clinched teeth… beneath all of those things, he's a scared little fourteen year old boy." She lifted her head, tears in her eyes. "He's my brother, Kalen. I'm his older sister – it's my job to protect him. No one gave me that job, I took it to heart on my own and now I've _failed_ at that job."

Kalen put the towel on the floor and knelt before her. He lifted his arms and cupped her face gently. "Carmen, please forgive me. But also, know that _you_ underestimate _him_ as well. I saw him fight – he's better than I would expect out of someone twice his age. It's obvious, when you look in his eyes while he stands at gunpoint, that he's seen things that have changed him. Perhaps this display was above and beyond anything that was called for, but he handled it with grace and didn't break down inside. He has a strong will and a strong heart. He has a strong mind. I was _worried_ that it may not have bothered him. I was worried that it had no effect on his soul or his mind or his heart. I was worried up until I saw him flee to the bathroom. I felt relieved because, in the end, he still has his humanity."

"Did you tell him we found mom and dad?"

Kalen nodded. "We left but were attacked directly when attempting to leave. I tried to walk out of there and they opened fire on me. I didn't respond, hoping that my lack of reaction to their gunshots would be enough to scare them. Then they tried to attack Conner instead. He defended himself with an impressive display but then more men poured into the hall, their guns trained on him. Another man entered the hallway near me, so I tore out his throat to become the center of attention. My diversion worked and they began shooting at me, temporarily forgetting about Conner. I never intended to _show off _to him in any way. I initially had his best interest at heart, so again… I apologize for allowing him to see that side of me. I struggled to keep my calm, after absorbing so many rounds of their ammunition. I fear if another attack were to happen, I would slip into a frenzy; survival instincts. I'm struggling even now – I _starve_."

"Feed from me," she replied in a soft voice.

"He asked me not to, as it would bring harm to you in the long run. He's correct, as I've already fed from you only a week ago. I need to find someone else, just to be safe."

Carmen rolled up her sleeve and pushed her wrist forward. "Just a little… it will help you."

"Giving a dehydrated man only an ounce of water is a poor solution. It's possible that he'll lose his common sense in order to get a second ounce, then a third… I need to hold myself together and find a deserving meal."

She shook her head slowly and rolled her sleeve back down. "Kalen, what're we going to do?"

"Part of me believes that we should head back to Paris and protect your family's new vault. It's the obvious next target, as the last of the artifacts are kept there."

"I mean what are we going to do about Conner, my parents… us."

"Live one day at a time," he replied in a soft voice. "Is there any way to ensure the safety of the vault and of those particular contents without leaving Miami? Your family is here for a reason – I believe they're here because the trail must end here… the doctor is most likely in this area or very near to it."

"I'll call Bentley," she said, reaching for her phone. She placed her free paw against his nude stomach, sifting her fingers through the fur. "Despite your desire to hurry, there's little we can do during this storm." She threw her phone against a pillow. "The network is still down. Had we been able to call Conner, I wouldn't have had to send you looking for him… then none of this would have happened."

Vai placed a paw upon her shoulder in a comforting fashion. "It's fate that the cellular network was down; think about it – you still have two bars of data reception, but you can't place a call? That's abnormal, the nearest tower must have been damaged – you weren't fated to make that call. You said he was stubborn – if you called, would he have come right back or finished 'playing' at the Museum? Then I wouldn't have gone after him, right?"

Kalen continued, "If he was alone, he may have died. He wasn't prepared for a group of armed men. When we stepped out of the stairwell on the first floor, there were three men pointing guns in our faces. Three more men were in pursuit of us, coming down the stairs. A fourth man was walking the halls up near the front door. I shielded Conner from their gunfire – they had no intent on letting your brother live, Carmen. It was fate that Conner went to that museum, as we were able to properly trace the package and ensure that these rattled men wouldn't deviate from their buying agent by trying to sell it on the market like in Perth – we scared those men, they'll want to finish their job and run instead of lollygagging. Everything happened for a reason as if destiny was aiding and protecting us." He stepped back and sighed. "I'll need to feed soon, I'm not feeling well."

Kalen walked away from the bed and opened the clothing closet. "Keep everyone together in Conner's room. I'm going downstairs to scout prospects of the few people who are here. Wait until I return, then we can all sit down together and figure out what our options are."

Carmen nodded then slid off the bed and approached him. She offered the jackal a kiss, which he returned. She quickly drew her head back and placed a paw upon her own lips then reached forward and touched his. "Your… lips are cold. Colder than when you placed your paw on my shoulder a moment ago… you're freezing cold. Your body temperature is dropping rapidly."

"I know," he replied, returning his attention to the closet to get dressed. "I'll be fine. Head next door and attend to your brother. I won't be long."

* * *

A/N: _Okay, so… I wrote this quick. Why? Because I'm in a hurry! I want to get down to the REAL MEAT of the story! I'm TIRED of introducing, building, evolving and developing characters, just so we can know them. It's time to jump in and blow things up and make everyone go, "OH SNAP, SON! WHAT? AW MAN!" lol. _

_ALSO, for those of you who found out about my work because you were reading Lament of Carmelita on Deviant Art, under Mr-K231, then fond out that he was posting it and pretending that he wrote it… well, that's been resolved. I talked to Alex and I totally forgave him. For those of you who came to this site and finished reading the story, went on the sequels and so-forth… thank you! I appreciate it! Alex, it's cool – we're cool. I'll be honest, I wasn't mad. It was a huge ego boost. When I finish this story and a few of the other popular ones that are in the works… Probably in about a year, I'm going to sit down and re-write my original works, and possibly develop something fresh and new… then I'm going to try and shop it around for publication. It can't hurt to at least TRY, right? If it sells, great… if not, it's not the end of the world. I'm just doing what I enjoy. :D_

_Oh, and I'll admit, I was semi-surprised that Chapter 12 received average attention, considering it was saucier than chapter 10, which has more reviews and twenty percent MORE hit / views than all the other chapters, LOL. Romance usually draws in a crowd, I've noticed. Haha, should I be more romantic more often? xD_

_Romance isn't the only draw, though. For example, in REFLECTIONS OF A NEW GENERATION, I let readers think that Fox and his team have died up until near the end of the story. Then, in chapter 20, I finally bring'em out of the dark and into the main stage. On average, every chapter has about 520 hit / views. But Chapter 20 has 831 as of RIGHT NOW (april 1__st__ 2009). It's the first chapter in many successive chapters to reach 10 reviews.. Suddenly, I start getting double digit reviews for a lot of chapters following. Trust me, I go back and look to see what chapters are getting way more re-reads or excessive reviews… I know I'd done something right in that chapter, and so I'll sometimes sit down and kinda' study it to try and figure out what I'm doing that's RIGHT. xD _

_-Kit_

PS: The next chapter is the one that you're all waiting for. *wink*

I know I blazed through THIS chapter, but it may take a tad longer for the next one, because I'm re-reading Spy Cooper, as well as THIS story, to make sure everything lines up. And stuff!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: _So, I'm sitting at work today and I just start writing …next thing you know, the chapter is done. It kinda' wrote itself today. Don't expect big snuggly hugs amongst the characters, I know one particular mother who is NOT going to be happy that her kids are on the front line of this battlefield, LOL. Enjoy!

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Chapter -14-

**Rain came down in **torrents; the wind gave it the optical illusion of coming down in sheets and airborne waves. Carmelita Fox knelt in the water, nearly knee-deep, with her back pressed against the roof of an overturned public transportation bus. A large paw print graced the white roof, with the word "LYNX" scrawled across the battery cell mounted to the top.

She peered around the end, careful not to cut herself on the shattered rear windshield at the back of the bus. Carmelita pointed her weapon, aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. The high-power electrical discharge rushed from the barrel of her weapon, evaporating raindrops in its path. For an instant, there was a hollow tunnel through the rain in the wake of the blast. The vixen crept back to her kneeling position; the water was even with the base of her tail.

Two gunshots rang out followed by the metallic clang of bullets striking the undercarriage of the bus. Fox cupped her free paw over the wireless earpiece in her left ear to deaden out the ambient noise of the storm. "Sly, do you see the cigarette boat? Look at the logo on the side!" She crept to the edge of the bus again and peered around the flat rear panel, which extended down to the bumper.

Sixty yards away, two boats were pulled up on the Miami Beach shoreline, still afloat from the flooded waterline. A group of men were carrying a crate to the boat on the left. The boat on the right utilized a gun turret on the bow, providing cover fire for the deliverymen. They hustled along the sandy beach, but up to their elbows in water.

Sly's reply was muddled over the wind and the hard rain, but she heard his voice, keeping a paw over her ear. "Carmelita, I recognize them but I don't remember where I've seen them – it's vague, but familiar…"

A pistol round glanced off the bus bumper, causing her to duck back behind the overturned bus once more. "Yeah, it was in that underwater city – remember back when you first proposed to me? Then, like, a short time later, the American Government sent you to an underwater city, somewhere south of here? It wasn't far from Cuba, if I remember correctly. That logo was plastered all over the place – the rollup doors that led inside the dome, the bulkheads… it was even on their maintenance carts, cars and random signs."

"Oh, yeah, that's right!" Sly's voice quavered, sounding muddled. "I think the network is struggling again. This storm has been playing havoc on the reception. I'm in position and ready to go."

"Sly, I have a bad gut feeling about your original plan," she told him. "There's no use in you stowing away on the gunner boat – we're a team. You'll need someone to watch your back. Do you have any more of those tracking beacon units?"

"I have two left in my bag," he said. "Stand by, I'm going to tag each boat, just in case they split up or something." From where Carmelita sat, she could see her husband's every move. He was hunched up in the woodwork of a nearby pier that only stood a meter higher than the current waterline. Cooper crept out and crawled up onto the handrail then performed a graceful swan dive into the rough water. He disappeared.

Carmelita waded through the water, splashing it wildly, hurrying to the other end of the bus. She placed a paw over her eyes to better squint. After what felt like a rather lengthy minute, Cooper broke the surface, adjacent to one of the fancy, long motorboats. He reached into his bag, beneath the surface of the water, and retrieved an object too small to be seen from her vantage point.

She watched him attach the water-resistant adhesive side after peeling off a wax-paper cover. He put his paw against the hull then dropped below the surface. Seconds later he reemerged near the other boat on its aft starboard side. He put the second tracking unit on the hull then retreated beneath the surface. Another volley of gunshots rang out. The rear of the bus took the brunt of the attack. Carmelita remained up near the front end. She crawled in through the busted windshield, pushing a dangling rubber wiper blade out of her way.

The wily vixen used her heel to dislodge a maintenance hatch on the rubberized floor of the bus. It dropped to the water with a splash. She knelt down in the cool water and aimed her gun through the access panel, lining up one of the men with her gun sights. She concentrated on the shot, closing one eye to better gaze down the length of the barrel. Carmelita pulled the trigger.

Down by the delivery boat, a sodden husky lifted the stone tablet up to a man onboard, wearing a thin raincoat. It billowed in the wind and the hood framed his face, clinging to his wet fur. Quite suddenly, his face burst into a splash of ruddy crimson. The husky, in the water below, ducked back. The stone tablet dropped to the deck, at the stern.

More gunshots riddled the rear end of the bus. A stray ricochet grazed Carmelita's shoulder. She gasped in surprised then reached for her shoulder only to sigh in relief upon learning that it only tore the fabric; she leaned back against where one of the seat backrests jutted up from the water. Sly Cooper broke the water's surface several feet from her, startling her.

She gasped then gritted her teeth. "You scared me half-to-death, dammit!" She slid a finger through the hole in the waterlogged cloth. Her head shook slowly. "Give me a minute, you."

"Everything all right, inspecteur général Carmelita Cooper?" Sly grinned, using her entire title and rank. "You take a zinger through the rank patch?"

"I would have if I was in uniform," she murmured. "That scared the hell out of me; too close for comfort." She peered through the maintenance hatch again then frowned. "They're pulling back and heading out. C'mon, we need to go and find the guy I shot, so I can fill out an incident report."

Sly shook his head. "No you don't, Senior Inspector… That only happens when the scene is declared 'safe'... besides, they probably hauled him aboard before they pulled away. You were busy sticking your fingers through the new hole in your shirt. I'm pretty sure the guy is dead, though… headshot. There was one guy without a hood – a husky. He climbed up into the boat, grabbed the artifact and started barking orders. The boats turned around and left at high speed."

Carmelita sighed in frustration. "Using those boats in the middle of a hurricane is dangerous and stupid but… it was also clever and brilliant. I think you and I might be the only ones to have seen this exchange."

Cooper placed a paw on her wrist, offering a comforting squeeze. "Hon, you told a news reporter to show up with his gear. It's possible we've got this on tape. You know how they broadcast things live on the internet now, so maybe we're not alone in having seen this transaction. It's possible that we can go back and watch the footage for additional clues."

"Did anyone see you install the tracking units?"

Cooper grinned at her. "I stayed on the rear side so that you'd be the only one capable of seeing me." He reached a paw up into his ear and plucked out a wireless headset. "It's probably no good anymore. I was under water for up to a minute at a time; I've lost count of how many of these things I've bought, now."

"The last one you broke worked after it dried out," she reminded, peering through the access panel again. "Everything is clear, I can barely see them anymore… In another few minutes, they'll be in international waters. Let's get out of this storm, dry off and get something to eat," said the vixen. She abruptly remarked, "I need a hot bath."

"Should I call the Coast Guard?"

Carmelita Cooper shrugged. "Why bother? Actually, I want them to get away. If they think they can get away scot-free then they'll not deviate from their destination, which leads us right to… wherever it is we need to go." She slumped in the water and shook her head. "Sly, when will this be over? I miss home – I miss our kids… our family. I'm tired of this stuff. It was fun when we were younger but we're sitting out here in the water in the middle of January, soaked to the bone, watching the bad guys get away."

"You need a cup of hot tea," said Sly with a grin, drawing his wife into his arms. "I'm sure the kids are fine. They're really responsible for their age… and you know if we even _tried_ to call the house, let alone someone like Bentley… the whole lot of them would be over here, stirring up trouble in half a second. Like _you_ said when we left Lyon in November… it's best that we do this alone. It's for their own good. It's so we can keep them safe, remember?" The raccoon offered her a slight grin. "Just think, it's almost over – we've finally figured out that we're dealing with the same crap from twenty years ago. I guess this means the domed city has survived after all. This time, we'll blow it up with something even better."

"Yeah," she trailed off then murmured, "Hot tea sounds nice." A subtle grin tugged at the corners of her svelte muzzle. "I still miss being able to relax after a long day at work. I miss helping Carmen recite her oral presentations and watching you work with Conner on his focal medication exercises… it was always quiet when you guys sat down to do that stuff… I miss the quiet."

"Well, at least they're safe. There's no way they could know where we are – they're safe and sound, thousands of miles west of here. The most important thing of all, the most important and dangerous of all these damn artifacts is buried in the vault. No one even knows what it looks like. It's well hidden."

Carmelita pointed towards the broken front windshield and said, "Safety isn't just an issue of our children, Sly! If this idiot, whoever he is, can cause _hurricanes_ in the middle of _January_, he's obviously dangerous! And so, here we are, sitting in knee-deep water in the middle of January!"

"At least we're in a subtropical area," replied Cooper with a wry grin. "Just think if we were in knee-deep water a thousand miles north of here… boy, it'd be so cold we'd be getting frostbite by now. This water is…what? Seventy degrees?"

She narrowed her gaze. "Which is cold for water, especially when the wind is this strong. I'm tired, I'm wet and I want to be anywhere but inside of a bus lying on its side right now. You remember when we first arrived in Miami? Sunny and breezy, with a subtle haze in the air?"

Cooper stood up and helped her to her feet. "That haze was from the forest fires, Carmelita. The state is half-way burning down."

"Not anymore," she snorted in disdain. "Let's get out of here and compare notes. Now that we know who is behind all of this… I'm starting to think we're going to need some sort of backup."

Her husband shook his head. "Who is going to believe us? Twenty years ago, I was summoned to help the CIA… but it took several years for them to get motivated enough to do anything… and it all went up in smoke, anyhow… so it's not like we can just stop by and ask for a quick hand."

"I hate to suggest this," replied Carmelita, "But it might be time to get your friends out of retirement. We'll need all the friends we can get for something this big." She shook hard but knew she'd be wet again as soon as she stepped out of the overturned bus. "Let's get off the boardwalk." She peered out through the front windshield and frowned. "The palmetto trees are nearly doubled over… the dumbest place to be during a hurricane is right on the damn beach. Remind me again why we're the only two idiots out here, on a beach in this kind of storm…?"

"Because we're saving the world or something, right?" Sly grinned and gave her paw a playful tug then headed for the broken windshield. "To the hotel, my dear. I'll find you some hot tea."

"Sounds lovely," she replied, following him back out into the hard rain and incredible wind. More gunshots greeted them, splashing down in the water on all sides. "Are you KIDDING?" she shouted, shoving Sly back into the bus and ducking down for cover. "Dammit, some of them are still out there – we're pinned down."

"Did you see what direction their shots came from?"

"No," she replied in a scolding tone, "I did not see from which direction their shots came!" She knelt in the flooded bus, moving between a row of chairs behind the driver seat's backrest. "This is really starting to tick me off." She watched as Sly moved further down to a section meant for handicap people, a section of floor void of seats where Carmelita had been hiding out, earlier.

More gunshots, this time coming from the other direction. "It sounds like they're all around us," Sly mused. Another volley of gunfire came from towards the beach followed by yet another burst from the west. "This isn't Custer's last stand, we'll get out of this."

"At least Custer was avenged," she mused in a soft voice. "Just in case things get a little dicey… I love you."

Cooper stood up and offered a paw out. "Give me your gun, wifey." After a reluctant moment, she handed it to him. The raccoon put it into his muzzle then leapt up, grasping the window frame of the top-facing starboard side of the bus. He winced from the tiny clumps of glass left in the frame, which dug into his padded palms. He pulled himself up then supported himself with his elbows. Sly took the gun from his muzzle and aimed east, towards the beach.

A man's head rose from the stormy waters, lifting what appeared to be a rifle. Sly drew in a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a moment then breathed out slowly until he felt a calm rush over. He gazed down the sights and pulled the trigger.

A horizontal trail opened up in the rain, evaporating everything in its path. The wavy water vapor effect dissipated. Sly squinted then grinned, seeing a body floating, tossed about by the wind and current. "Got'em." He retracted his elbows and dropped to the port side of the bus then handed Carmelita back her gun. "I still say they're unnecessary."

"Yeah? Your ancestor, Tennessee Kid Cooper didn't seem to have a problem with guns." She flinched, hearing a volley of rounds strike the bottom of the bus. Water splashed in through the fresh new holds in the floor panel. Another round sounded off coming from the west. "They're closing in… stay vigilant."

The gunshots from the west grew closer and louder. Their quickened in pace. Quite suddenly all the shooting stopped. "In here!" said a man. He moved in front of the windshield, using a paw to brush away the hanging windshield wiper. "They're in here!"

Carmelita popped up from between the two seats. The backrest covered her from the waist down. She pointed her weapon at a grizzly bear ducking in through the front of the bus. "Come in _nice and slow_ and put down your gun, don't even _think_ about warning your buddy."

The man looked surprised, tossing his gun towards the interior of the bus. Sly came up towards his wife and caught the weapon with grace. The man moved further in, carefully stepping over the driver's console. Another man came in behind the first… Carmelita recognized that man instantly. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Winthrop?" she exclaimed in confusion.

"In the fur," he said. His eyes moved beyond her and his expression turned sour. "…Sly," he added in acknowledgment. "I've always wanted to say this so…" He took a deep breath and in his best attempt at a heroic voice, announced, "We're here to rescue you!"

Thomas Gerard slowly lowered his paws in unison to Carmelita lowering her gun. No sooner did Winthrop speak, did he immediately lift his paws back up in order to cover his face with a groan. "It's bad enough I have to fill out a report for every one of those bodies floating out there, then we've got to reel them in, identify them and have them sent off for proper processing… but tone down the semantics, Winnie."

Carmelita snerked in semi-amusement. "Winnie?" Her eyes traveled to the bear, hearing his words about needing to fill out a report. She liked him already, seeing that he was a man of protocol.

Again, Winthrop's facial features went dull. "That's _always_ been my nickname, Carmelita. If you'd noticed I was even alive the _whole time_ that I worked for you… then you'd already _know_ that. It was on my office ID card, clipped to my belt or lapel _every single day_ I came to work. "I guess I needed a gold cane and to trade in my suspenders for blue business cards in order to get your _attention_ back then, huh? Maybe if I had a paw full of diamonds instead of a fresh cup of your coffee, things would have turned out differently between us, huh?"

Sly winced rather visually, patting Carmelita on her shoulder. "I'm not _even_ getting in the middle of _this_ one, hon. You're on your own, here." He lifted his right paw, index finger pointed up in gesture to Gerard then underhand tossed the weapon with his left.

Thomas caught the weapon, engaged the safety and put it into a holster beneath his left arm. He glanced over his shoulder at Winthrop then moved further into the bus, careful with his footing. "Can we at least get out of the storm before we rehash the past, please?"

"How did you guys find us?" asked Carmelita, completely blowing off Winthrop's entire rant. "And who are you?" she asked of the bear.

"I'm Thomas Gerard, Inspector for Interpol and, like Winthrop said… we're here to rescue you. Looks like those goons out on the beach had you guys pinned down – I suppose we arrived just in time, right Winnie? Look, I've been looking for you guys for a month, and if it wasn't for your son leading us right here to Miami, we never would have found you."

Carmelita's eyes widened. "Conner is _here_? My _fourteen year old son_ is in Miami?" She bound over the sideways backrest and threw her gun over her shoulder to Sly. Carmelita took Gerard by his waterlogged collar and shouted, "You _know_ he's only _fourteen_ right? You let him bring you _here_? In the middle of _all this crap_?" She drew in a deep breath. Both Sly and Winthrop covered their ears, knowing from personal experience that she was going to raise her voice above and beyond unnecessary decibel levels. "ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

She drew in another deep breath as if to bellow again. Winthrop quickly approached her, splashing through the water. He nearly stumbled on the slippery interior. The weasel put both of his paws up. "Things happened for a reason – we were able to rescue you…" The corner of his muzzle tugged into a light sneer, adding, "_both_ of you." He cleared his throat then said, "I'm an analytical scientist, now. I make so much money that I could afford to take a spontaneous vacation and help Inspector Gerard come find you. I may have resented you after I left my job in Paris but that doesn't mean I don't still have a crush on you."

The vixen blinked, recoiling in horror. "You have a _crush_ on me? Since _when_?"

This time, both Sly and Thomas covered their ears in advance.

Winthrop threw his paws into the air. "Ever since I _MET_ you! Wasn't it OBVIOUS? I put FRESH FLOWERS in your office almost EVERY DAY! I brought you fresh COFFEE, even when you didn't ask! I put YOUR NEEDS first and foremost with every action I took and you NEVER EVEN NOTICED! What else do you think it means when a man puts flowers in a woman's office every day?"

Carmelita grimaced. She tightened the right side of her jaw then the left, pondering how to word her next thought. Finally, in a softer voice, she asked, "Because I thought you were gay? I mean, honestly, I didn't know. I really thought you were just being a sweet ...gay ...guy."

"I ONLY HAD EYES FOR YOU!" he erupted.

"Whoa, hey, I understand that you've had the hots for her since…." Cooper paused then said, "Well since I _met_ her… but that's _still_ my wife, now. Show some respect, man."

Winthrop froze, realizing that he was having an emotional outburst, right there on the overturned bus in the middle of a freak-hurricane. He blinked twice. "You're right; I apologize. I went all those years without being bold or flirtatious because I wanted to be the consummate professional and didn't want to cause drama. That's who I am… I didn't intend to get silly and dramatic just now… but no, I'm _not_ gay. I might not be the most macho looking male around but I've got good qualities to offer women, too. It just _took a while_ to come out of my… shy stage."

With a shake of her head, Carmelita simply murmured, "Oh boy…"

Thomas placed a paw on the weasel's shoulder, guiding him back from Carmelita, slowly. "C'mere, bud… let's talk real quick…"

"Out… out in the rain?"

"Yeah, pal. Let's talk out in the rain real fast. Trust me for a moment, just come out here, real quick and let's have a little man-to-man." Thomas led him back out of the bus, leaving Carmelita and Sly together.

She turned back to her husband and sighed in frustration. "I can't believe he's here…" She trailed off and shook her head with an exasperated sigh.

"Who's where? I'm still shocked that _you_ didn't know that Winthrop had a massive crush on you. Even _I_ knew that, Carmelita; geeze. Talk about the ultimate in ignoring your coworkers. What were you so damn focused on, back in those days?"

"YOU, asshole!" she quipped, adding, "And what the hell do you mean, _who_, _where_? Didn't you hear them?"

"I heard'em. They said Winthrop has the hots for you, _still_."

Carmelita gritted her teeth and reached for her husband's neck. "They said _Conner_, our _fourteen year old son_, is HERE… in MIAMI, FLORIDA… RIGHT NOW. Here, with us, with the men with guns, with the storm, with all this crap going on around us… he's _here_, right now… _in dangerous_, most likely! Who gives a damn if Winthrop likes, liked or will continue to like me? I was to obsessed with _you_ to ever notice, you idiot! Now, get your head out of your butt; we've got to find our son!"

Sly took a long, slow breath then smiled brightly and said, "RIGHT! Let's find Conner and send him back to France with his sister so we can take out this menace in the Atlantic!" He then abruptly changed the topic. "What're you going to do about Winthrop and his whiny emotional state, now that you know he's been in love with you for all these years?"

Cooper's wife brought a paw to the side of her head, massaging her right temple. "Aye caramba..."

* * *

**Conner peered through his binoculars then frowned**. "I don't see much. There's a bus washed up on the boardwalk. There's a palm tree down, caught between the boardwalk pilings, I think that's keeping the bus from going with the current… You don't see _that_ every day." He pulled his head away from the rectangular device and winced. "I saw a floating body down there, awash in the current. There's a trail of blood behind his head… does _everyone_ have to be dead in this city? Or is it just me?"

"It's just a theme of today," said Dawn in a sarcastic voice. "Let me see." She took the binoculars from her boyfriend and gazed into them. "I see the body and the bus. Isn't this where the drop was supposed to happen? I don't see anyone here to meet up… where is the stone tablet now?" She glanced back over her shoulder at Carmen and Kalen.

The female Cooper cleared her throat and lifted a paw over the screen to protect it from the rain in order to read the plastic display. "Dammit… I still can't tell… This storm is killing the reception. I get a faint blip then nothing. But if the blip is accurate… the tablet is already out to sea and we're too late."

Dawn resumed searching through the binoculars. "Hey, wait, whoa…" she offered the device to Conner. "Look close at the bus. It's riddled with holes – they look like bullet holes; zoom in some and you'll see what I mean."

Conner nodded in agreement then passed the binoculars back to his sister. "They're definitely bullet holes. So, whoever was here at this meeting place… it's possible that the delivery people had a shootout with someone. I'm not going to lie… it makes me nervous. I don't know if I'll be able to handle it if I go down there and see mom and dad on that bus. How did you guys know they were going to be here, anyhow?"

Dawn spoke before Carmen could. "Apparently your mother thought to call the press and tell them to come down here and roll live footage, which was up-streamed directly to the internet. At the end of the footage, your mother turns to the cameraman and says, 'Get out of here – it's not safe anymore. Get inland, quick." Then the video footage ends. I remember seeing two long boats pulling up in the distance… I suppose _that_ was how the delivery was made… directly by boat."

"Kalen stays here," said Conner. "This is family business." He then turned to Dawn and said, "Come with us, I don't want you alone with _him_," he told her, nodding towards the golden-furred canid.

The jackal folded his arms across his chest. "I'll stay and provide cover should anything go wrong. Head down to the bus and scout the area." He then added, "Carmen, watch yourself." He sniffed the area then shook his head. "The saline content in the air is too high to detect if the attackers are still localized."

Carmen afforded him with a genuine kiss then headed down the wooden steps leading towards the beach. Water runoff cascaded down the wooden staircase like a waterfall, making the trip down to the boardwalk a treacherous one. Dawn followed Carmen with Conner behind them. He reached for the holster strap that connected with his belt. A firm light tug, he pushed down on the lay of the straps to keep the cane and its sheath from riding up on his torso due to his wet clothing.

Dawn reached forward, placing a paw on Carmen's shoulder to remain stable. Conner moved to the side, where the flat railing ran parallel to the stairs. "I'll meet you guys at the bottom, so I can catch you if anyone falls." He eased up over the handrail, careful to ease the bottom of the cane over the end. He then pushed his tail over the side then lifted his feet, gliding down the rail. He zipped passed his sister and girlfriend then dropped to a crouch at the bottom.

Conner stood up and placed his paws on his hips, watching them struggle down the stairs in the direction of the water current. When the girls made it to the bottom he darted off towards the overturned bus, the cadence of his feet creating a rhythmic 'splish-splash' sound. He hurdled over the downed palm tree behind the bus and moved around to the front end, coming face to face with Thomas and Winthrop. He stopped in his place and tilted his head, feigning confusion.

"…You." Thomas blinked. Winthrop turned about then glanced away in jealousy, reminded by the physical manifestation of Carmelita's romance with Sly Cooper. Gerard smirked at the weasel then approached Conner, placing a paw on his shoulder. "Listen, son; they're okay and everyone is fine. But they're none-too-happy with the fact that you're here in an area that's dangerous. I mean, we're in the middle of a hurricane and your mother would rather you were back in France right now." He lifted his head seeing Dawn approach. "And didn't I tell you to stay away from that girl?"

Conner glared at him for a moment then smirked. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a fancy wristwatch. The raccoon reached for Thomas' paw as if to shake hands. Instead, he deposited the watch into the grizzly's large paw. Conner reached up and, using his other paw, patted the larger man on his shoulder. "I told myself I'd give it back if you found them before I did. Good work, Inspector. Now get out of my way, I've waited several months for this moment." He approached the weasel and added, "Whatever has got you looking so pitiful… get over it. You're a grown man, dude." He pushed by Winthrop and ducked into the bus.

The top of his cane brushed against the hanging windshield wiper blade. It swung about. He abruptly made eye contact with his mother. Conner hopped down from the dashboard and waded through the water to her. She opened her arms to him and the two embraced.

"Conner! I can't believe you're here! Why would you come out here, it's not safe here, babyboy."

"Mom, you guys vanished for months. _Months_. I've grown up on stories of our enemies, like Clockwerk. I had to make sure you two weren't dead."

"Oh, sweetie, we're fine… You had to know we were alive if you were able to trail us – the dead don't move around from country to country. How did you know where we were?"

Conner lifted his head, looking up at her. "I _missed_ you, mom. I was afraid you guys might need help if it was something big… And a photograph of you surfaced in Russia. I followed you guys through Russia and over to America."

Carmelita's eyes widened, seeing the hook of the cane behind his head. "I'm impressed, sweetheart. You did very good… but… _where_ did you get that cane, young man."

Sly moved towards him and said, "I wasn't even around to see you complete the trials?"

The youthful Cooper shook his head. "I didn't complete the trials. I _stole_ the cane from Bentley." He directed his attention back to his mother and said, "I needed to know why you guys pretty much abandoned everyone without so much as a word. Be honest, I've traveled halfway around the world to find you guys; I deserve the truth."

Carmelita opened her muzzle to say something but instead she sighed. "It's complicated, I mean… I…"

Sly approached his son from the side. "Remember when I told you that Clockwerk came right to my front door, and leveled the place? I didn't want something to show up on _our_ doorstep and get the drop on us. Carmelita and I had to finish something we started before you were born."

Carmelita murmured, "It was the year Carmen was conceived. I thought it was all over, but we were wrong."

Conner's father continued speaking. "I'll give you the low-down later, just know that we came here chasing after someone who is up to no good. Stopping them was only supposed to take a few days… then it turned into a few weeks. We got closer and closer and trailed this guy all the way to Miami. Whoever he is, he's damn good. You shouldn't be here; it's too dangerous. Besides, you're the man of the house – you should be back in France, watching over your sister."

A feminine voice called out from the front end of the bus. "Funny, I always thought it was the other way around… I watch over my little brother. The thing is, he didn't listen very well."

"Carmen!" Carmelita lifted her head again, blinking in surprise. "Dios Mio, you're _both_ here? The whole family could be wiped out by this mess and here we are, all together, one big target. God, my nerves are a mess."

Carmen grinned inwardly. "Yeah, you'll have gray hairs by the time Conner reaches his eighteenth birthday." She slid down through the windshield and into the waist-deep bus then treaded out to the family. "Who the hell is that whiney looking guy out front with the bear?"

The vixen froze then groaned. "He was my intern two decades ago."

Sly murmured, "He quit after I proposed to her." A grin tugged at the corner of his muzzle. He turned to embrace his daughter. "Hey, sport. So Conner snuck away from you and you came after him, huh? Did he really steal the cane from Bentley?"

"It shocked us all," she replied. "Even _you_ couldn't steal the cane from Bentley. That's why we thought his system was foolproof. I guess my kid brother has talent, huh?"

Conner released his mother and asked, "When are you guys coming home?"

"When it's done, honey." Carmelita's voice lowered, sounding as though she was disappointed in her own answer. "It's for the safety of our family. It's something we have to finish or it could come back and bit us in the tail. I can't allow that. I love you guys too much to let this _thing_ involve the both of you."

"What is it?" asked Conner.

"I can't explain it right now," said Carmelita to her son.

Sly placed a fatherly paw on Conner's shoulder. "Once upon a time, Clockwerk was contracted to steal something from the Cooper family. That artifact is one of many possessions that were wanted by someone… who was… well… above Clockwerk's level to some extent. The Cooper's still have it, but it was just several of many artifacts that are… well… they're apparently important when combined. What we have is still the most important piece of all, but it's safe. Anyhow, someone decided to amass the rest of the pieces around the world under the belief that it would bring him or her some sort of… power or something. I can't really understand it, myself."

"So you're out to stop it before they finish amassing the pieces scattered around the world," deduced Conner, adding, "But eventually they're going to want the whole picture assembled, which requires coming after our family to get it."

"You got it," Sly told him. "You guys were safe and hidden in the Alps. If you're here, you're in danger."

"I've grown up over the last two weeks," said Conner. "In fact, I have someone I'd like for you both to meet." He glanced over his shoulder. Carmen, standing near the windshield, waved for Dawn to enter the bus. She reached up and offered a helping paw. Dawn took it and wiggled down into the metallic box then approached her boyfriend. Conner glanced back at his mother and father. "This is Dawn. She's sixteen and she's smart, really good with computers and we've been through a lot together in the last two weeks. Neither of us would be alive if it wasn't for the other – we make a good team."

Dawn swallowed back a bit of nervous apprehension and offered a paw to Sly. He shook hands with her then stepped back. She waded through the water and offered a paw to Carmelita.

The vixen grinned, glancing back at her son. She shook her head slowly. "_How good_ with computers?" Carmelita paused then said, "Wait… don't tell me. I don't have the heart for it." She took Dawn's paw and they shook. "You're a very attractive girl. I admit, I'm impressed my son somehow caught your eye. At least he's interested in women who are slightly older and more mature."

Sly placed his paw on his wife's shoulder. "Yeah, I wonder where he got _that_ from." He turned towards Dawn and winked playfully. "I'm two years younger than Carmelita."

Dawn blushed slightly, an expression that went unseen beneath her matted fur. "I guess it runs in the family for you Cooper boys." She released the older woman's paw and moved besides Conner. "You two must have the _adorable baby_ genes, because Conner is as cute as can be. Plus, he's sweet and clever and smart… brave, honest…"

"Whoa, wait," said Sly with a grin, trying to playfully put her at ease. "Don't call a thief's son _honest_. That's just downright wrong."

Dawn chuckled at the joke and nodded slowly, lifting a paw to push away wet strands of her bangs. "Honorable, hardworking, clean…"

Carmelita smirked. "Oh, then you haven't seen the way he keeps his bedroom, yet. Which is good, because I've told him countless times, no girls in his bedroom while he lives under my roof."

Conner grimaced. "…_Mom_." His words were a soft grumble.

The smirk on Carmelita's muzzle broadened. "Quite, you're already grounded until you're a legal adult, young man."

Carmen ran a paw up through her own hair, pushing it back. "I also have someone I'd like for you two to meet."

"Oh heaven help us," said Carmelita. "You have a boyfriend? Please, dear lord, stop growing up, you two."

Conner glanced back at his sister and smirked. "No, she has a _fiancé_ and I don't care much for him." Out of honor, he didn't rat out his sister by disclosing Kalen's secret. "I'll let you two form your own opinions about him."

"Fair enough," replied their mother. "Let's get somewhere else… preferably somewhere _dry_. I'll need to psyche myself up to meet this _man_. …I mean… _engaged_? I've not even _met_ him, and he's got a _ring_ on your finger?"

Carmen lifted her bare paws. "I don't wear it out in places like this. Mom, we've been dating for a year. It's complicated and he treats me like the queen of the prom every minute of every day. We're from different worlds and yet we were meant for one another, so please keep that in mind when you meet him."

Sly lifted an interjecting paw and said, "I've always wanted to be able to threaten my daughter's first boyfriend. Why did you hide him from us for so long?"

"Like I said, it's complicated," she told them with a slight frown. "You'll meet him formally when we get back to the hotel. Try not to make an ass of yourselves in front of him, please. He's very special to me."

Before either Carmelita or her husband could reply, Conner lifted his paws and said, "She's right… you guys do go toe to toe with one another, and sometimes mom gets very _in your face_ with guests. I don't like the guy but just the same stay polite until we're out of this storm, please?"

"Wow, where's all of this coming from?" asked Sly with a slightly nervous chuckle. "I've never been ganged up on by my kids before."

Conner moved towards his father, hugging the older raccoon. "Just don't fight with mom until _later_, like when we're in _France_." He grinned at his dad then said, "And it was easy to steal the cane from Bentley. I did it in under a minute without getting caught. They're _still_ scratching their heads over it."

Sly broke into soft laughter. "I'm impressed. They didn't even catch you on tape?"

Carmen said, "No one is quite sure how he was able to do it. That's something else I'd like to talk to you about later, dad. I think Conner has somehow inadvertently invented a new family thieving ability. Not a normal maneuver of sorts… but an actual trait that lets him…"

"ENOUGH about _stealing_ things!" Carmelita erupted. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Let's get out of this damn storm. There's supposed to be a second one headed for shore. We need to get somewhere safe."

The group began to trudge towards the front. Dawn climbed out first, followed by Carmen, who glanced back over her shoulder and asked, "Did those men already successfully do the delivery?"

"They're out to sea by now," said Carmelita. "How the hell did you know about that stuff?"

"It's complicated," said her daughter with a shrug. She knelt on the dash and reached for her mother's paw. Carmelita took it and they exited through the broken windshield together. The senior inspector met eyes with Winthrop who immediately turned away as if in shame. She shook her head and quietly said to her daughter, "Your new beau isn't a geeky goofball who tries too hard, is he?"

Carmen shook her head. "He's _gorgeous_. He walks through a room with confidence and takes away every other woman's breath, then he bows down before me and treats me like royalty. He's a _real_ man, trust me."

Conner climbed out next, muttering beneath his breath. "A real _old_ man with a pretty boy face." He turned about and reached for his father's paw. "Speaking of old men, c'mon pops… Remember, don't start questioning this guy until everyone is dry, relaxed and has had some sort of dinner. Talking to him will just make your head hurt… _trust_ me on that, dad. I can't even make heads or tails of him."

Sly frowned, moving through the windshield. "I already don't like him. He's dating my daughter and has apparently been doing so since she was seventeen. It's my God given right to dislike my daughter's first boyfriend. Then I find out they're engaged? Trust me, I'll want to wait until everyone is in the right mindset before I sit down and have a man-to-man with him. What kind of man is he?"

"He's hardly a man at all."

Sly balked. "Her boyfriend is another _girl_? I mean, she didn't have to hide it, I wasn't going to judge, I just..."

Conner snickered. "No, pops… he's a dude; that _wasn_'t what I meant. I can't explain him." They moved out towards everyone else. Conner discretely said to his father, "What about Dawn, huh? She's pretty freakin' hot, huh? She's an amazing kisser, too."

Sly grinned and patted his son on the shoulder then quietly told him, "The girl definitely has a figure on her. But when I see a sixteen-year-old girl, all I see is a child, anymore. I'm glad she makes you happy, Conner. Incidentally, how good _is she_ with computers?"

"She's on par with Bentley," replied the boy, adding, "She looks great in a thong while working on her laptop. She's so damn good, she was able to hack into the passport agency and cover our trail."

Sly and Conner remained behind everyone else as they moved along the boardwalk, wading through the now-waist-deep water. "Why would you guys need to cover your trail?"

Conner face-faulted. "The Russian OC tried to kill her. Right now they actually think they were successful. She's changed her name recently in order to play dead. It's complicated, so… she'll be moving to France with us, when all of this is over."

"…All right, well… If she has ties to Russian Organized Crime, and if she rubbed them the wrong way… then… that just means she's a better criminal than I thought. Russians ignore you unless you're a big enough fish for them to want to fry. They wouldn't care about an entry level hacker."

"She'll make one hell of a Cooper." Conner grinned, adding, "But I won't rush into it like _Carmen_."

Sly grinned at his son then shook his head. "I'm sure she will make one hell of a Cooper one day… but yes, please… don't rush into it like Carmen. In fact, let's not even talk about Carmen's fiancé. It's a touchy subject right now. We'll have to keep an eye on him. He some sort of bogeyman?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me – it'll stay between us."

Conner glanced around furtively, watching as Thomas, Winthrop and the women moved carefully up the stairs, inundated with water. He slowed down with his dad and quietly said, "The guy is some sort of supernatural entity. He shielded me from a barrage of bullets. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for that… but I don't want my sister dating a blood-drinking man-slaughtering vampire." He sighed and added, "And you don't even believe a word of it, do you? People like that shouldn't be able to exist."

Sly stopped at the bottom of the wooden steps. "I've seen some things in my life time that I still don't understand to this day. If you say he's able to take a few bullets and that he drinks blood to survive… I'm actually inclined to believe you. How does he treat Carmen?"

The teenage boy placed a paw behind his head, rubbing at his wet neck. His eyelids flitted from the heavy downpour. "Actually, he treats her like the soap bubble she is, compared to him. I saw him tear men apart with a flick of the wrist – he practically treats her like some sort of princess by comparison."

Sly sighed. "You didn't out him to your mother, so you obviously respect either your sister's relationship or you're doing it out of honor because he took a bullet for you. So… I won't tell Carmelita."

"Yeah…" Conner started taking the steps, careful not to let the rushing water disrupt his footing. "He took more than a bullet for me… more like several _dozen_ bullets for me. I'll be honest, I'm afraid of him – I've seen what he can do to an attacker… I'm scared to death of him."

"Understood." Sly placed a paw against the small of his son's back, helping to guide the youth up the watery steps. Carefully, they worked together to ascend them. "I just want to get dried off, right now. It's been a long afternoon. I don't think any of this has hit your mother just yet… I expect her to be a little emotional about all of this later on. I'm just giving you advanced warning. I'm impressed you found us, though. Oh, and one more thing… what's Carmen's _real reason_ for coming to Miami, with you?"

"She was here when I arrived."

"Figures." Sly shook his head. "You kids are a trip. You're supposed to be looking out for one another. Just do me a favor and put family first, next time you two want to run around the globe, huh?"

"I sure wish you and mom would take that same consideration." He offered a thin smile to his father. "We did miss you, y'know. I don't want you and mom to get killed while I'm still a kid. The only thing I don't understand is how Thomas Gerard got to you guys before _me_."

Sly grinned. "You lead him here… Once in town, he was just quicker to zero in on a gunfight. That's just cop instinct, Conner. You don't have that, you don't want that ability. Trust me. It gets you in way more trouble than being a thief."

"I hear ya'." The two Cooper males made their way over the last step. They paused, watching the females crowd around Kalen Vai. Winthrop had his back to the jackal, arms folded. Thomas Gerard stood catty-corner to Weasel, looking to be locked in some sort of conversation with the man.

With a sigh, the elder raccoon placed a fatherly paw on his son's shoulder. "Good job getting the cane. I wasn't able to do it… No matter how good you are at the Master Thief Trials, no matter how challenging life can be… nothing can compare you for meeting your daughter's first boyfriend. It's emotional and it sucks, Conner. Okay… let's suck it up, puff out our chest… and go over there."

"Remember when I said, dad… just don't talk to him until we're at the hotel, dry, fed and relaxed. You won't win a fight with him – bullets go right through him, like they tickle or something. He's some sort of monster."

"I've learned one thing from your mother… don't judge every book by their cover." Sly smiled slightly. "After all, if a cop and a thief can get married and have kids… _anything_ is possible."

* * *

A/N: _Okay, I'm going to take a SMALL BREAK and go back and re-read through the series so that I can better tie it together, because I'll be doing that with Kalen's explanation to Sly and Carmelita about what's going on. Yeah… this has a LOT to do with BOTH Lament of Carmelita and SpyCooper. Anyhow, this chapter wrote itself, tonight. I just sat down and… bam. I can't believe how fast and easy I wrote it. I know, it wasn't some big happy hug-fest with tears and snuggles… Deep down, Carmelita is still furious that her kids are right on the FRONT LINE of this WAR ON HUMANITY so to speak. Anyhow, more on all of that later. THANKS FOR READING. _

_-K_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter -15-

**"So tell me about this half-sister of yours,"** Conner asked. He sat down on the end of his hotel bed, not far from Dawn. They were alone and could vaguely hear muddled group discussion through the wall, coming from everyone else. He watched Dawn's reaction and tilted his head. "Don't want to talk about her?"

"We had the same mother – different father," she started. "I was close to daddy – I lived with him; she lived with mom. She's the only family I have and even though she's pretty young, she has a daughter. It's a really screwed up situation. Mom dies, she winds up in an orphanage and was actually _abducted_. She surfaced a few years later, pregnant then disappears again. Someone I know online happened to get word that she was in that brothel in London. They gave me the address… then _you_ came into my life. Next thing I know, the mafia catches up with me. Suddenly, 'Rachel' is killed and with my apartment blown up, I actually have to play dead."

Conner nodded in understanding. "So rescuing her was an ulterior motive objective… but you couldn't let that be the main target – you rescued everyone and turned it into a heist so that it couldn't be traced back to you."

Dawn nodded. "I'm still playing dead. I approached her, back there… I told her to get out of London and I gave her some money, some credentials and a credit card. I told her that the Mafia made an attempt on me and so I had to 'stay dead'. It might be the last time I get to see either her or my niece. Needless to say, she took the money and is resolved to go and get her daughter out of a nearby orphanage, so the same thing doesn't happen all over again."

"I know this is a dumb question but… does she know your real name?"

Dawn chuckled and shook her head. "Sick, but no. Daddy told her my name was Rachel – it was a week after I'd chosen that alias that I even met the girl. She's _still_ too young to raise a toddler but with that money at least she can make sure her daughter isn't abducted from an orphanage, the way _she_ was."

"Does anyone know your real name?"

"There's only a small handful of people alive who know my real name, Conner. I'm one of them, and if I say who the others are, then you'll be able to figure it out." She lifted a paw and patted his cheek gently. "I _promise_ I'll tell you soon. You'll laugh when you find out, though."

Conner shook his head vehemently. "I promise, I won't laugh."

Dawn dropped her paw and reached for one of his. "No, you'll have my permission to laugh – it'll definitely make you laugh; it's seriously that funny."

He shook his head again. "Thief's honor – I won't laugh."

With a chuckle, Dawn slid off the bed and walked to the wall. "Trust me, you'll laugh." She leaned forward and placed her ear against the white surface, trying to listen in on the conversation on the other side. "I don't hear any yelling. You said your mom has a temper, but she's been pretty understanding so far."

"We've done nothing that she wouldn't have done – whatever it takes to protect the family. She's _angry_ but she's not about to push her temper on someone who doesn't really deserve it. Now, if she found out that you and I robbed a casino? Oh, man, you'd hear two hundred decibels of _angry vixen_. Your ears would ring for hours."

"That's where you get your temper from, then." Dawn smiled.

"I'm not that bad – only when something happens beyond my control to the point where I'm feeling helpless in the face of something important."

"Yeah, then you explode – contents under pressure." Her smile broadened. "Is that why you didn't throw Kalen around the room when you first met him? Because he wasn't doing anything to make you feel helpless?"

"Sorta'." He shrugged. "I felt pretty helpless watching that piece of crap dice up those men. It was disgusting – how my sister can find anything good about that man is a complete mystery. He's a neck-biting freak whose savage side needs serious attention, because if he hurts her… then he'll _really_ see my temper."

Dawn lifted a paw and gestured her boyfriend to silence. "They're talking about some sort of unlimited power source in Russia. Your dad says he's seen it before in Prague give-or-take a year before your sister was born."

"I thought they were going to talk to Carmen about what the hell was going on?"

"No, far from it." Dawn pressed the side of her head firmly against the wall, trying to make out words. "Now your dad says he wants to break into two groups. He wants Carmelita, Winthrop, Kalen and your sister to go to Prague and dig up something …cheap?"

"Cheap?"

"Yeah, you know… I think he's trying to say that this device is crappy."

Conner rubbed the side of his head in confusion. "How does some special unlimited power source get considered as 'cheap'?"

"I don't know; he called it 'Chintzy.' That means cheap, so… it's tough to understand through a wall, to be honest." Dawn grew quiet again then, after a moment, told him, "Now he's asking Kalen to stay in Miami."

The teenage boy grinned. "Nice going, dad… Heh, sounds like he's giving them a mission to keep Kalen and Carmen apart. Good idea, if you ask me."

Dawn suddenly face-faulted.

"What?"

She tightened her jaw and shook her head slowly. "He wants Kalen to help work with him, along with you and me. It sounds like you're going to be seeing Kalen a little more often, now. I'm sorry, Conner."

He frowned then shrugged. "So long as he stays away from my sister, I'll take it. Besides, if he can take a bunch of bullets and walk away from it… at least I know that the three of us will be safe in a gunfight. I mean… let's stay away from him, just the same – I don't want to become a snack for this guy."

"You don't have to tell _me_ twice. Are you excited to work alongside of your father?"

Conner nodded quietly. "Are they saying anything else?"

"Your dad is politely telling Winthrop not to have any brave ideas around his wife. Now he's telling the other Inspector – the grizzly from Russia – to keep a look out over Carmelita so Winthrop doesn't get too friendly, now that he's lost his 'shy' demeanor. What's their deal, anyhow?"

"Winthrop was apparently mom's intern back when she was Carmen's age – my sister turns nineteen next week, for the record. Anyhow, Winthrop had a crush on mom but never said anything about it. He got her coffee and stupid stuff around the office, but never actually said he liked her. Mom wouldn't have done squat about that anyhow – back before she met dad, she was really _by the book_. She wouldn't have fraternized with an employee."

"Cute, so Winthrop isn't shy anymore?"

Conner grinned and replied, "As of a little while ago, he got over his fear of having a crush on mom – probably because she's not his boss anymore or something. Either way, he apparently went off on everyone, down by the bus before you and I showed up. Mom shrugged it off and from the sound of things, I guess dad somehow didn't."

"Quick, they're coming!" Dawn hurried to the other bed and sat down on it, quickly grabbing her laptop and opening the lid. She pulled it onto her lap and looked up at the door just as Sly Cooper stepped into the room.

"Hey dad," said Conner.

"Hello, Mister Cooper," added Dawn.

"Change of plan, you guys. We have some work here in Miami and I need you guys as part of my team."

Conner's face lit up. "Part? I know just the group of people to be the other half!" He wanted the opportunity for Javari, Sergei and the Tiikeri sisters to meet his infamous father and, more or less… to show off.

"Whoa, slow down," replied his father. "Penalty flag. Let's not have _too many_ players on the field at one time." Sly lifted his paws and shook his head. "See, I'd rather work with people who I _know_ I'm compatible with… this situation is pretty darn important. I'm sure your friends are great, but let's not drag too many people into this mess all at one time. It's going to be dangerous but now that I'm up to date on everything… France won't be any better, so… you're going to stay by my side. I know you're safer with me ducking bullets than you are out on your own, waiting for someone to come after you. I don't want you getting captured and used as hostage bait. Yeah… it's that bad."

"Hostage bait, huh?" Conner shrugged. "Well, all this time I thought _you_ were the one who was captured. So what's the plan?"

The elder Cooper sat down besides his son and placed an arm around the boy's neck. "You get a crash-course in how to be a Master Thief, and how to be a Cooper. It's going to be insanely dangerous and your mother isn't exactly fond of this plan. She wants you to go back with Bentley and have him hide you as far away from Paris, Kane Island and the Cooper Archipelago as possible but… I told her that if they want the key, all they had to do was hunt you down. If _you_, our fourteen year old son, could find _me_ somewhere on this globe in a matter of two weeks… than any professional could find _you_ in a matter of _days _if you're not with her or myself for safety. She agreed that there is safety in numbers. After a little coercion and explanation, your mother agreed that you should stay by my side. But she wants you to have a few… shall we say… body guards, not just me."

"Like who?"

"Jing King, Bentley and Murray will be joining us. Jing has adopted her father's abilities of blowing things up in a matter of speaking… she'll be important. That will be our team."

"What about Penelope?"

Sly shook his head and patted his son's shoulder. "Penelope is going to shack up in Paris with Jing's father, Panda King… along with an old friend of mine, named Dimitri. Thomas Gerard will tag along with Winthrop, mom and Carmen for a while – I don't know how long he'll be involved until he has to report back to his desk; The four of them… they're headed to Prague. After that, they may be heading out to the new mega-vault. We're trying to find something important and Bentley has an over-ride key that will allow them access without using the Cooper Cane."

"A secondary backdoor? Isn't that kind'a dangerous?"

Sly stood up and stretched. "No, it's smart. What if someone stole that cane from you? Then they go to the new vault, open it and lock themselves inside? Then what? This secondary method would get the family into the vault where we could corner them and get back our cane. It's Bentley's secret – even I don't know all the details on how to get in without the cane. Not only that, it's loaded with traps that only a Master Thief could best – that way some random guy can't accidentally find his way in without the cane."

Dawn cut in. "You'll need a logistics manager."

"We've got one," said Sly with a smile. "Bentley is the best there is."

Her face dimmed, showing her disappointment. "Oh, well that's cool. Maybe I can learn something from him." She cleared her throat to try and conceal her lack of enthusiasm and said, "So you're splitting up Kalen and Carmen? Well, I certainly appreciate you keeping Conner together with me."

"Actually…" Sly walked to the window and glanced out into the street, watching the storm. He saw in the window's reflection that Dawn and Conner perked up, afraid he might separate them. A secret grin tugged at the corner of his muzzle. "Yeah… about you and Conner." He paused for dramatic effect. "I'll actually need you guys running parallel, side by side. Conner and Jing will be running bravo team. Bentley, Murray and myself will act as Alpha team. Bravo team has Jing as the muscle, Conner as the thief, but…" He paused for effect then coughed into his paw and told her, "Bravo team will still need a logistics manager. However, that person has to be good with computers, cracking codes and hacking security stations. They have to be resourceful and quick-minded."

Dawn chuckled. "Nice one, Mister Cooper. For a minute there, I thought you were going to turn this into some sort of 'boys team here, girls team abroad' operation. I'll take the job, Mister C., _sir_."

The elder of the three raccoons turned about, paws on his hips with a bright grin. "Jing is _female_, too."

Conner rubbed beneath his muzzle. "If we're working three by three, how does Kalen fit in?"

"He's the wildcard. He's his own team. He's involved in this whole situation because of reasons that go beyond the whole 'good verses evil' concept. He won't get in our way, and we'll stay out of his. If we happen to cross paths and help one another, so be it."

With a furrowed brow, Dawn cocked her head and asked, "He's got ulterior motives? I thought he was here to help Carmen?"

"No." Sly ran a paw up through his hair and frowned.

"Touchy subject, huh dad?"

Cooper grinned at his boy. "It's sort of touchy, I guess. He was assigned to this whole situation before he met Carmen. When it was revealed that the situation involved her family, they began working together. And, while engaged in fights, two against several dozen and things like that… Well, see," Sly paused and rubbed his head to try and explain things gently. "When a guy and a girl fight together as a team to save one another's life, repeatedly I might add… things become complex."

Dawn glanced at Conner, completely able to understand. "Yeah… sounds rather _emotionally intense_, if you ask me."

The boy glanced back at his girlfriend and offered a devious yet relaxed, casual grin. "Yeah, that's a good term for it."

"I want to hear about all your exciting stories," Sly told them, adding, "But first, we're going to have to go and get prepared. I've already called in Bentley and Jing King. Bentley got a hold of Murray, who is going to meet us tomorrow. Mom and her group will be heading north then flying back to Europe right away. Again, I want you guys to understand that this will be dangerous. I _don't_ mean danger as in… you might get hurt. I mean _danger_ as in… you might _die_." The elder Cooper sighed, glanced at his son then shrugged. "We're keeping you two apart; Conner and Carmen I mean," he glanced at Dawn then back to his son, adding, "We're keeping you siblings separated because the both of you are our legacy and if we keep you both together and something happens… well…"

Conner was blunt, finishing his father's statement. "The Cooper family would cease to be."

"Well, yeah…" Sly frowned. "But if one of you were to die, the other one would live to, well… I don't know… I suppose the best term would be… you would live to help _avenge_ your sibling… doesn't that sound a little less selfish than to claim we're doing it to keep the family line from _ending_?"

Dawn nodded in agreement. "True; he's got a point, Conner. Not about how to make it sound, but about keeping the family lineage going."

The teenage boy moved from the bed to the door. "I'm going to go and see mom and Carmen. I finally get to see'em then we're splitting into groups. So, I'll be over there. You guys feel free to get to know one another. If I get my way, dad, you'll be seeing a lot more of Dawn soon enough." He cut his eyes to the girl and offered her a comforting grin then stepped out of the room and walked down the hallway.

Conner approached the doorway to the second room but stopped outside, not wanting to barge in during conversation. His ears perked, hearing his mother erupt with a simple, sharp toned word. "_Bullshit!_" He froze and listened from the hallway.

Inside the room, Winthrop and Thomas sat in the corner, quiet. Carmelita paced the floor in front of two full-sized beds. On one sat Kalen; Carmen sat on the other. Senior Inspector Fox ran her fingers back through the thick dark ringlets of her hair. "I'm going to have gray strands at this rate. Listen, I was there. Sire was no damn _martyr_. He was a two-timing double-dealing jerk. He was a murderer and a thief in the worst way. He was _nothing_ like that, Kalen. Neither where his cohorts. Donovan Loupe was the _only_ one who turned out to be fairly decent in the end."

Kalen calmly replied, "These supernatural persons were appointed by the celestial bureaucracy. They were selected because of their high likeliness of surviving. Everyone died – it was a complete disaster and sent a shockwave through the supernatural community. Everyone was talking about it, the fae, the were-creatures, the vampires, the mages, everyone." He cut his gaze to Thomas Gerard and shrugged. "It matters not that you disbelieve me. Save your head shaking, Inspector." He panned his eyes back to Carmelita. "Sire was sent in to head the operation. Karla was cloned from the DNA of her original body extracted from having her grave exhumed a few months before Sire and his team went to Prague. You see, Karla was killed quite some time ago. Her wraith was inserted into the cloned body like a poltergeist. Because the brain holds physical memories, those had to be programmed into her new form; they tested the cloning machine on Clockwerk's creator first. Clockwerk killed that clone in a lab accident. Donovan Loupe was a magus whose ability to control shadows was quite impressive. Finally, they had a tactical support warrior simply named The Reaper. In the end, everyone died."

The senior inspector folded her arms. "Nathanial Carrington," said Carmelita, remembering '_The Reaper_' by his actual name. "Everyone except for Donovan's most faithful apprentice – I think his name was Eric or something… and the man who rebuilt Clockwerk. Stephan, if I'm not mistaken."

Kalen stood and nodded. "Yes, Niall (A/N:_ Archaic spelling – pronounced 'Neil'.)_ who, at the time, went by the name Stephan. He's not immortal. He's one of the world's most brilliant people and he stays out of sight in order to do more good from behind a curtain than to be out in the open. He invented a gene therapy treatment to 'turn off' the 'aging gene', _over_ a thousand years ago. No one knows his true age, but he's so old that even the supernatural community recognizes his brilliance and incredible longevity. To be quite honest, he might actually be the oldest living being on this earth.

"He invented the method for which Karla Chintzy could be cloned in order to utilize the help of her wraith. They learned that her demonic wondering soul reacts differently in certain situations and… the cloned bodies showed such. It's difficult to understand fully – even for me. Niall also invented an unlimited power supply battery. The technology was implemented three times in three places, with each more fantastic than the last.

"A small device powered the cloning machine. In perspective by size ratio, it's very powerful for how small it is. A larger device was invented but _taken_ to be used in order to power the Atlantis Dome. Finally, another one was invented to power Clockwerk's new body the year Stephan and his clone rebuild the idiotic contraption. After it was destroyed by the United States Government with the help of _you_, Mrs. Cooper, that power supply unit disappeared."

Carmen picked up where her fiancé left off. "It wound up in the hands of Arty Crowell. It was damaged and he was smart enough to rebuild it but foolish enough to claim it was his invention. Now he and that particular power supply are missing. I suspect foul play."

"His body has not turned up." Kalen frowned and glanced to his betrothed. "That was a dangerous assignment, you know."

"I was perfectly fine," she replied. "In order to maintain my status with him, I had to do some rather inhumane tasks – it _still_ bothers me. If he's dead then what can I say? He _deserves_ death."

Carmelita quietly asked, "What did he ask of you?"

"I can't talk about it right now. Classified status and all that; I don't really care to go into the details right now, anyhow."

Carmelita's eyes shifted back to Kalen. "I know you weren't there, but take it from me because _I was_. Sire manipulated everyone. He wanted things his way and he had no problems killing and stealing to _get_ his way, when his stupid little mind-trick didn't work. Karla was his lackey."

Kalen folded his arms. "This is the first time I've ever heard of their treachery. Their mission was to utilize Clockwerk, in a new controllable form, to destroy the Atlantis Dome. In the end, we were to repossess artifacts there. They collected by the man who lives in that dome with his own personal army of well-paid underlings; some of these men have entire families in that dome. They live there like it's the normal way of life. Some of them have been there for as long as two generations and their children have never seen the sun."

The vixen clinched her teeth. "Sire made several attempts on my life, not to mention using Sly as a hostage to try and lure me in."

"Sire's team _did_ plan to take out the person responsible for killing the original Clockwerk in order to protect their 'weapon' this time around." Kalen frowned and shook his head slowly. "The supernatural community was in a split decision over it, since they were already stressed from their inner detante, as many did not want the karma of an innocent's death on their hands. Others relished in the thought of it all. Sire and his group told the Court that they sought the key to the Cooper vault in order to retrieve and properly re-hide artifacts of value, which were stored by the Cooper family."

"Sire was a power hungry dirtbag," she muttered. "He may have been all powerful and immortal… and it may have caused him to disrespect the lives of mortals… he may have gone to any end to 'complete his mission' including the attempted murder of anyone who stood in his way for the 'betterment of the world' but in the end, he wanted to collect those artifacts for _himself_. He wanted to be _more_ powerful. He was the bad guy, Kalen. My question for you is… are _you_ a bad guy, too? Are you a wolf in sheep's clothing, Kalen? Because if you are, so help me God… Sly and I tore apart a small army of immortals and their paid underlings. You think that guy in the Atlantis Dome took out your kin? Hell no, Sly and I killed them out of self-defense. I wouldn't think twice about adding _you_ to my list. And believe me, I figured out the _perfect way_ to take out someone who can cheat death…"

The jackal lifted a paw. "Yes, it's no secret – you remove the head from the body or exhaust it and inundate it with an onslaught of attacks until the immortal's physical form succumbs." He took a long, slow breath and turned to the window, watching the storm, the way Sly Cooper had done moments ago in the other room. "I will report everything you've told me to my superiors. Because this never got out, Sire, Reaper and Karla died as heroes, although Karla was a demonic wraith all along… she's still out there – a lost soul, wondering. Actually, she wasn't an evil person in her natural life; she was reincarnated from something far darker, though. That's the most I know about her."

"I know exactly where she is." Carmelita rubbed her chin. "It's too long of a story to explain, but I arranged for her to bite the bullet. There's a cloned body in stasis, but that was crushed by thousands of tons of rock; we demolished a castle on top of that lab. She's done for."

He stood by the window then folded his paws behind his back. "That machine was powered by the remaining unlimited source of energy, invented by Stephan. The one we all agreed to go and find. If she was killed, her wraith would return to the remaining cloned body set aside by Stephan, regardless of how far beneath the rubble it may be. She's probably still in stasis – if she was put into a fresh body, she won't have any memories. We could possibly sit down and work on the machine in order to implant select memories into her head – we could gain her as an ally."

"You had said you wanted to go dig up that stasis machine," retorted Carmelita with a growl, "because you wanted to seize that power supply. And I agreed to it. So did Sly. But I'm not going to bring _her_ back because, believe me… she's _bad news_."

"She'll possess the ability to mount a credible offensive against the Atlantis Dome. Her powers of telekinesis and telepathy would allow us to get the drop on that dome as well as cripple their defenses."

"I can't believe we're going to dig up that jezebel hussy." Carmelita threw her paws into the air. Carmelita turned towards the door. "I'm going to go and see my son – I've not seen him in quite some time and… now you people want to head to Europe… I'm going to go and spend some time with him. I don't really wish to be bothered for a while." She reached for the door handle and pulled it open…

Conner Cooper stood in the doorway. "Mom… what's gotten into you? You're analytical and realistic… how could you even _pretend_ to buy into this whole _supernatural_ crap?" He folded his arms, glaring at his mother with disappointment in his eyes. "There are obvious logical explanations as to why that guy could take a few rounds. In the end, he's still a freak of nature with a sadistic side that I'll never forget… but he's no superhuman all-powerful _being_. That's a load of crap, seriously."

"Conner…" Carmelita sighed. "You were listening, huh?" She glanced back at Carmen and jerked her head towards the hallway. "Let's have a family discussion, downstairs… just the three of us. After all, Carmen… you _still_ owe me an explanation for living this _second life_ romancing Kalen and working for some group I've never even heard of."

"Let's keep it that way," replied Carmen, eyeing her brother. "No offense, Conner…" She glanced at her mother and frowned. "I told you in confidence, mom. I don't want it to be an issue, so let's just leave it be for right now." She stood up and walked towards her mother. Carmen glanced over her shoulder to her mate and nodded. "See you soon, love. Could you take Mister Weasel and Mister Gerard down to the desk and get them their own room for the night? We'll be leaving tomorrow, around ten in the morning."

Kalen nodded. "Of course, angel. I'll see you shortly."

Carmelita glanced back at Carmen then forward at Conner. "Okay, you two… let's go find somewhere quiet. I owe you both an explanation, just as much as you both owe _me_ some sort of _something_. I want answers – honest answers about what the hell you two have been up to, as of late. Because it's important. You two may not realize it, but we're in way over our heads, right now. This family nearly sealed its own fate generations ago when the Coopers took some stupid trinket from Clockwerk. He's hunted the family for centuries to get it back, as well as to cause the family grief. We may have destroyed him once and for all but this whole situation was much bigger than just Clockwerk and we only found out two decades ago. Now everything has boiled over into _this_ generation of Coopers. Someone out there _still_ wants everything…"

Conner lifted a paw, confusion marring his brow. "What is it they want?"

"There is a worldly collection of artifacts out there," she said with a frown. "A few selected dirtbags want this collection for themselves – they know the Cooper family apparently has what is missing from the world market. The whole situation is bigger than any of us can possibly understand… so the more you tell me, the more I can piece this whole thing together."

Carmen stepped out behind her mother and shut the door to the room. The three of them walked down the hallway. Conner pushed his paws into his pockets and Carmelita placed an arm around his shoulder, glad to see him after so long. Carmen walked on the other side of her mother, paws behind her back. "You're right: this is big, Mom. It's big, it's scary and people twice as powerful as Kalen are probably involved as the backbone of this situation. But all we have to do is find out what these artifacts are… and what it is this family has in its possession… and we can destroy it."

Carmelita pushed her left paw into her pocket. "While it's more than just one object, I admit that I'm not too keen on the idea of destroying these artifacts." She balled her left paw into a tight fist, not wanting to destroy her wedding band… it was fashioned from the melted metal of the Cooper family pendant, sought by the original Clockwerk, spanning back many generations. "Even if you destroy those objects, melt them down… whichever… you can't make them go away. If you melt down one gold object, it just gets recycled into something else. If you turn it into gold dust and sprinkle it all over the world, all your doing is making it difficult for one of those freaks who know alchemy to work it back into a solid object."

The vixen kept her left paw hidden in her pocket. She recalled what the pendant looked like, back in the days of her youth. She remembered that it was the reason behind Clockwerk's personal war against the Cooper family. She also knew it was some sort of worldly artifact once upon a time. She recalled the day that Sly Cooper placed it upon her finger, while pregnant with Carmen. Her fingers were too swollen to keep it on until after the pregnancy. Then, just as it was designed to do before being melted down into a ring… Carmelita's next child was a male – Conner. (A/N: _ALL of this backstory is explained in Lament Of Carmelita, the first story in this series._)

"This is all ridiculous to me," replied her son. "Mom, I've got an idea. I'm going to take Carmen downstairs to the cafeteria and we're going to have a talk, just us. Now, since you're going to be leaving tomorrow and you won't see dad for a while, go into my room and get him… and you two spend some time together, quality time, while you're not dodging bullets… then meet us downstairs in a little while, okay?"

The vixen paused, tilting her head. "That's very thoughtful, Conner. That would be nice. I'll see you both in an hour or so, all right?" Carmelita hugged them both then headed back up the hallway to find her husband. Meanwhile, the two teenagers continued through the hall, headed for the stairs.

"What was that all about?" asked Carmen.

Conner grinned. "I want mom in a good mood before I tell her what happened to me in Russia… I'm not talking about the heists… I'm talking about what happened to Dawn and me. I've seen more people die since I left France two weeks ago than I've _ever_ seen in any _one_ action-movie. It's been a scary two weeks."

Carmen put an arm around her kid brother. "You've done pretty good, Conner. I just want to find out how you got the cane from Bentley. What's your secret?"

"There is no secret," he replied. "It was an accident and I capitalized on it. Your beau would refer to the situation as 'fate'; I was in the right place at the right time. It was meant to happen. There's no magic, mystery or special powers – that crap doesn't exist."

"He wouldn't necessarily call it 'fate', Conner." Carmen shook her head with a sigh. "I want you to try and be more open minded. That way, if something happens that shocks you, it won't rock your world, okay? Yes, there's a scientific reason for everything, including teleportation… but if you can teleport on a _whim_, you're not natural, you're _super_natural. If you can heal a wound or multiple gunshots, it's because there's a scientific reason that boggles the mind of the mundane."

"I'm _not_ arguing that he's _not natural_ or normal, as it were. I'm arguing that there is nothing magical about this guy or the idiots mom mentioned earlier. Just because we _perceive_ the sky is blue, doesn't mean the heavens above are that shade or hue of that part of the spectrum. It's really as black as space and we see a reflection of the atmosphere in the sunshine that is mirroring the…"

"Dammit, that's SO very like you!" Carmen lifted both of her paws to make sure he'd not get another word in, edgewise. "Shut _up_, will you? I don't want you to argue a blue sky, outside, on a sunny day, at noon, when there isn't a cloud in sight. Who cares if blue is the part of the spectrum we see from our angle. I don't care if it's because it's really ultra violet, or a reflection of the ocean, or …or _something_. I see blue, you see blue, and in the end, the world has decided to _call_ what we see in the sky, 'blue'. If you argue that it's not blue in the face of all your peers, outside, on a sunny day… then you're _in denial_. And denial means you're not going to be prepared for something that might just come up and surprise you in the near future. You _need_ to be more openminded, Conner."

"Carmen… C'mon, _poltergeist_? Inhabiting the body of a clone of her once mortal form, invented buy a mortal man who invented immortality for himself thousands of years before any of Kalen's peers? Are you serious? What a bunch of malarkey. I've _never_ heard mom talk about that kind of stuff. _That_ surprised me, but guess what? Hearing her talk about that crap didn't shatter the foundation of my frail mortal existence."

Carmen shook her head with a slight grin. "Now you're just being facetious and sarcastic. So why are we going to the cafeteria?"

"To find something to _eat_ in this place. It's an expensive hotel by the beach. They have a kitchen and serve gourmet food. I hope there is some sort of cooking staff here. I'm ready to _eat_. And I bet you're hungry, too."

She nodded, her grin broadening. "Yeah, it's been since yesterday for me."

"Then let's eat!"

"How can you think of food in a time like this?"

Conner shrugged and opened the door to the stairs for her. "First order of business is survival. First act of survival is to eat. I'm freakin' starved. I bought Dawn a pizza earlier; I'm not sure but I think the front desk guy made it, not a cook… Anyhow, I'm pretty sure Dawn _had_ to be hungry, she ate the whole personal pan pizza. Twelve inches – gone. She piled it away faster than I could steal a gumball from a broken machine. I was the gentleman, Carmen. I brought her food and let her have the whole thing. Now that she's taken care of, _I'm_ ready to grub out. I thought I'd invite _you_ so that _w_e could talk."

"You're a sweet boy, sometimes. And if it's about Kalen you can just keep it to yourself for now." She stepped into the stairwell and eased her rump up onto the rail. "You want to race?"

He moved up onto the opposite rail, across from her. "The outside track is way longer. Since you passed the trials, shouldn't _I_ get the inside track?"

"You're smaller, shorter… you'll go faster. And you know we're both going to wind up rail sliding before we get to the bottom. You're a much faster rail slider… I say it's even." She lifted a paw. "Ready, set…_GO!_" She took off before he could get situated on the rail. In order to catch up, he pushed off the wall. Before either one of them made it a full flight of stairs, they both jumped up on the rails and began to run along them, side by side.

"I can't believe you're going easy on me, what a gyp!"

Carmen gritted her teeth, trying to increase her pace without losing her balance. "I can't believe my fourteen year old brother is a challenge," she paused to take a breath then continued, "In anything outside of a video game!" In unison, they ducked the section of the stairway lip above their heads then cut hard to round the corner. Carmen began to move ahead of him, on the inside rail track, panting gleefully.

Conner strained, falling behind by only a meter. They neared the end of the rails on the first floor, with Carmen in the lead. At the last second, Conner dove forward, performing a handspring at the end of the banister then vaulted forth. Carmen's feet hit the ground with a thump, a fraction of a second before Conner dropped to the carpeted ground in a half crouch.

"That's close enough to be a tie," she said, shooting him a grin.

"No, you beat me, fair and square," he replied in a humble tone. The boy grinned back then added, "But since my track was actually longer…"

"I'm satisfied with a tie," she replied calmly with a grin…

* * *

**The cafeteria was quiet **save for the ambient sound of the storm, outside. Carmelita Fox, now dressed in a simplistic blue sweater and denim slacks, reached her paw over, tapping her fork against the side of Conner's plate. He stiffened and sat up straight. Their eyes met and she smiled, quietly telling him, "Don't slouch at the table."

Carmen grinned, stealing a glance at her brother. They were a family again. The younger female asked, "How is it?"

Their mother replied, "Your cooking has improved. You're getting quite good."

"I've missed it," added Conner. "Teach Dawn." He paused then changed the subject. "It sounds like the storm is dying down. Any news on this second incoming storm?"

"It stalled over Cuba, dropped down by one category." Carmen took a moment to delicately cut through a portion of meat then she put her knife adjacent to her plate. She transferred her fork to her other paw and said, "It's coming, but it's not expected to hit until just prior to sunrise."

"Great." Conner frowned, watching his sister. She displayed proper table etiquette and her elegant mannerisms made it easy to forget she was allegedly some government-contracted special operations agent. "So, where do we go from here, Jason Bourne?"

"I forget," she replied, keeping a straight face.

"Clever," he murmured, stuffing a forkful of mashed potatoes into his muzzle. "Very 'punny.' I liked the book better than the movie."

Carmelita grinned at them both. "At least I raised you two on the classics. I enjoyed Robert Ludlum books when I was your age, Conner." Her tone turned firm and she cleared her throat in a demanding method that gained their attention. "I want both of you to be serious and mindful of your surroundings. Bentley will be here in the morning – he's coming in on a privately chartered plane and is aiming to arrive before the second storm makes landfall. We'll discuss things as adults then the European team will be immediately flying back out during that window of opportunity."

"And Murray?" Conner shifted his weight in the chair then pushed the fork back into his food, all of which was mixed together on the plate.

Carmen placed her fork on the table and lifted a napkin. She dabbed her lips with it and glanced at her brother's plate. By comparison, her own plate was perfectly segregated, with meat on the left, mashed potatoes on the right, corn and green beans parallel to one another at the top of her and a tan sauce at the bottom of her plate. "I heard he is local – Daytona I think, so he'll be coming over on his own."

The teenage boy glanced back at his sister; he caught her eyeing his plate and the way he was mixing his food. "I thought you were supposed to be a vegetarian?"

She tilted her head, causing her headfur to pool on her right shoulder. "It's tofu, the gravy-looking stuff gives it a meaty taste. You should try it."

"You can keep your soy milk and fake meat, Sis – a growing man needs his protein. It's good for you – _you should try it_."

"I have; I'll pass." She turned back to her mother. "Who were those men on the beach?"

Before Carmelita could say anything, Conner exclaimed, "Those douchebags from the museum. The ones who survived your freak-boy's wrath. You should keep him on a leash. The shorter the better, if you ask me."

"Not at the table," Carmelita interjected. "Listen, you two… I went through this two decades ago. It was scary and I'll never forget it. I'm no spring chicken anymore. I'll need both of you to keep your wits about you. Believe me, I'd love to lock you both in one of the vaults until this 'thing' blows over… but Sly can be convincing."

"Usually, he bends to _your_ wishes, mom." Conner grinned impishly and stuffed his face with another forkful of various mixed foods, stuck together in the mashed potatoes.

"Sweetheart, you know his story." The vixen lifted a paw, smoothing out the cloth napkin stuffed into her shirt buttons. "Your grandfather, Conner Cooper, moved to France to lay low. He raised his family and dropped off the radar. Somehow, Clockwerk still found him and attacked the house directly. Sly and I agree that neither one of you is safe unless you're both at our side. At least you'll have a fighting chance if we're together. I don't like it, but…"

Conner swallowed down his food and interrupted her. "I'm ready to kick some tail! That's why I came to find you guys. I was afraid something happened to you two. It's not like you to miss Christmas, mom. That's about the time that I really freaked out. What's up with that anyhow?"

"It's a long story, we got in over our heads."

"And that's why I set out to look for you guys! I had a feeling you guys got in too deep."

"That was foolish," replied his mother. "You left your sister unprotected. You left yourself defenseless and vulnerable while striking out on your own. It was not a very smart move."

Conner paused to think about what his father told him over an hour ago. "It's for the best that Carmen and I split up. If someone did attack the house, and if they somehow got the both of us… the family lineage would have ended right then and there."

"I'm not too old to have more kids, y'know," retorted Carmelita. She took a slow breath, sighed then told her children, "When you two stay together, I worry less. I love you both very much – you're both irreplaceable. If you two separate, you've both increased your chance of being subdued by the foes of this damn family."

"There are no foes left," Carmen mused in a soft, polite tone. "Clockwerk is scrap, Doctor Alphonse Moreau was crushed in the vault on Kane Island then he drown in the Pacific… Let's see, what else? The Central Intelligence Agency has left the family alone and _you_ took down both Muggshot and his _brother_."

"He had a brother?" Conner jabbed his fork into his food, lifting his other paw to scratch his head. "Since when?"

"Since birth," replied Carmelita. The joke didn't fly. She sighed and said, "I had no idea – the guy had never heard of _me_ either. He's not dead that I know of, but he's no pushover. If he's smart, he'll stay out of this family's way."

As if on cue, a rapid succession of deep thumps filled the area. Everyone exchanged glances. Conner rolled his eyes, shoveled his fork into the food for one last big heaping mouthful then stood up. He pushed his paws together, cracking his knuckles then began to chew, heading for the door.

"What was that?" asked Carmelita, standing up.

"Gunshots – sounds like they came from outside." Carmen stood and called out to her brother. "Where are you going?"

His reply was muffled, speaking with a full mouth. "To work!" Another round of dampened gunshots could be heard through the walls.

Carmelita reached behind herself and withdrew an exaggeratedly large handgun. She opened the cylinder, checked the grossly oversized ammunition then jerked her paw, closing the revolver with a slight amount of spin on the cylinder. "I did _not_ want to get into a firefight with my _children_, dammit."

"Mom, you brought a _gun_ to the _table_?" The younger female blinked in shock. "You once gave me grief for bringing a _slingshot _to the table, when I was eight."

With a smirk, Carmelita walked by her daughter, reaching her free paw back to tug the hem of her sweater up. Crisscrossed at the small of her back, two fully charged phase pistols gleamed in the dim candle lighting. "I bought _three_ guns to the table. And you were _eight_, bringing a slingshot to the family dinner table was disrespectful, given the time, situation and your _age_, young lady." She brushed through the double doors at the end of the room, drawing the hand-cannon up at a ninety-degree angle.

Carmen groaned. She reached for her napkin again, dabbed her muzzle then placed it adjacent to her plate. She blew out the candle at the center of the table then neatly arranged her silverware on either side of her plate. With a reluctant sigh and a shake of her head, the hybrid vixen-raccoon crossed the room, drawing a matching pair of Glock pistols from a hidden holster, somewhere within her blouse. She checked the magazines, released the safety switch, drew back the slides, one at a time, then calmly stepped out into the hall. "A family firefight – how _Appalachian_." She pondered which family the Cooper clan would most resemble – the Hatfield side or the McCoy's.

Outside, the sound of gunfire grew in decibel level. Carmen approached the lobby up ahead, just as the stairway door to her left burst wide open. She drew both weapons then abruptly lifted them at an angle. She watched as Conner dashed out to the lobby with the cane in his grasp. A forlorn sort of moue crossed her muzzle; she continued to follow him.

Seen from her vantage point, the front desk clerk stooped behind the counter. A large mirror against the wall at the back of the room received a round. Instead of cracking, the bullet hole had a rippled round-layered effect surrounding the point of impact. The teenage girl frowned and calmly approached the crouched man across the way. "Go upstairs and let yourself into a room. Lock the door and call room number four-zero-four on the fourth floor. Let them know what's going on and what room you're hiding in. We'll call you back when this blows over." She turned her back on him, training her weapons on the main doors. "I'll cover you – now _go!_"

The man jumped up and broke into a sprint. Once he was out of the lobby, Carmen approached the front entrance. Outside, the rain had let up somewhat but remained otherwise steady. Of the three main doors, the center one was a revolving style. She delivered a swift kick to the elegant wooden frame and it spun. The spinning door attracted attention outside; two rounds hit the glass panels in the rotating frame. She gave the door another kick for a burst of fresh momentum, and it took a third round.

She then broke to the left, heading out through the regular hinge door on either side of the revolving one. Her diversion worked. Rounds struck the wall and she cut to the left and ran. Shells rained down against the front of the hotel, chasing her along the wall. The hybrid fox-coon kicked up water from the depth of puddles surrounding the building.

A loud metallic _CLANG_ rang out, screaming in her right ear as she ran. Carmen glanced over her shoulder before ducking into a nearby alley. She saw Conner standing not far from her position. He held the cane in a 'follow-through' stance, having deflected an incoming bullet that was initially meant for her. She put her back up against the alley wall and stood at the mouth, pointing her weapons towards a classy-designed wall of buildings across the street.

She squinted her eyes then tightened her jaw, spotting several men in various spots. One was in an office window across the street. Another couched in the mouth of an alley to the east of the hotel. He hid behind a hotel shuttle bus that read, "BEACH BOUND SHUTTLE SERVICE" along the side. Two more men stepped out from an alley across the street, holding high power assault rifles.

Carmen squinted her eyes, gazing down the west end of the street. Something hazy caught her attention. In the blurry distance, she could barely make out a brightly colored object in the rain. It came closer at what appeared to be a high rate of speed.

Conner lifted his cane like a bat then swung it as if aiming for an incoming fastball. Halfway through his swing, a piercing metallic sound rang out. To the east, a man that Carmen had not previously noticed staggered out into the middle of the street. His rifle fired in random directions then he dropped to his knees and fell over.

"Aw, YEAH! Did you see that _ricochet_? That was unbelievable!" Conner pumped his left fist in the air. "Damn, that was _tight_!"

Somewhere in the distance, Carmen heard her mother reply. "You couldn't have done that again if you _tried_! Nice job, kiddo! Now do me a favor and _get back inside RIGHT NOW_!"

"Will you just _admit_ that you _need my help_?" replied Carmen's brother in a sharp tone. "What the hell is that goofy-looking thing to the west?"

Carmen returned her attention to a vehicle approaching at a high rate of speed. Meanwhile, the two men with assault rifles targeted Conner and opened fire. He twirled the family heirloom and, in an impressive demonstration of masterful cane manipulation, he swatted a hole in the volley of bullets. Several rounds struck the mason work of the wall behind him. "Here they come, everybody!"

The incoming object came into clear view. It was a boxy-looking vehicle with racing decals and a bright paint job. The van hydroplaned through the center lane spraying water up in the air. The driver cut the wheel, causing it to spin about by ninety degrees. The rear end fishtailed, striking both men in the street. Their assault rifles flew into the air. The two men, bowled over by the van, disappeared from Carmen's view, possibly now beneath the van – she couldn't be sure.

A faintly familiar voice boomed out through the driver-side window. "HAVE NO FEAR, for THE MURRAY is _here_!" The driver flung open his door and leapt from his seat, splashing the water that flowed down the street. He picked up one of the fallen assault rifles that lay in the street. Water poured out of its elongated barrel. Murray pivoted on one foot then hurled the weapon up into the air with all of his might.

Carmen watched as the spinning object sailed impressively high, three stories up. The butt stock struck the forehead of a man in the window of the building across from the hotel. He staggered then fell forward, landing on his back, sprawled out across the sidewalk. Murray balled his hands into fists and lifted them into the air, shouting, "THE PASS IS _GOOD_! Yeah! Righteous!"

He picked up the fallen man, lifted his body high into the air then hurled the man at a mercenary who was crawling out from beneath the van. The man withdrew his sidearm just as his airborne comrade crashed into him. Murray's biological boulder crashed into the man on the ground, knocking the pistol from his paw. Again, Murray celebrated with a boisterous victory shout. "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff right there!" He preened, striking a boxer's victory pose then threw quick air-jabs.

Murray blinked. "Conner?" He froze and looked over at Sly Cooper's son. "Holy cow, you've _really_ grown up, man! You should go inside and protect the innocent – your mother and I will handle these dudes!"

"No way," Conner called back. "Let's take these guys together! Behind you!"

Murray turned about, just as a man stepped out of the alley with a combat knife drawn. The hippo eased his body weight into the pivot, launching his fist. He struck the man square in the face, rendering his attacker unconscious. "Thanks, lil' guy!" The man's fists opened and his knife splashed on the ground. He went stiff like a board and toppled backwards into the water.

Conner smirked. "See? You _need_ me – I'm staying to fight!"

Carmen's eyes flitted up, just in time to see curtains in a third story window draw back. A metal gun barrel glinted, catching her attention. It was angled down towards her brother. She dashed from the mouth of the alley, guns pointed up at a forty-five degree angle. She eased into a relaxed stride, firing the weapons repeatedly at the window across the street. The glass shattered and a man slumped forward, hanging over the sill from the waist up. His gun dropped to the sidewalk, landing less than a foot from Murray.

The hippo jerked his right foot up in the air as if he'd just been stung by a bee on his toe. "Geeze!" He cringed away from the weapon. 'That thing almost hit me in the head! That would have totally sucked!" He regained his previous posture and called across the street to Conner. "Are you okay, lil guy? It's a good thing your sister is a crack shot, buddy!" Seconds later, the body slid forward, dropping to the pavement, landing adjacent to the hefty pink-skinned man. Again, Murray bulked, lifting one foot and recoiling from the body as though it were a poisonous spider on the ground. "Aw, geeze, it's raining bad guys; this storm is _crazy_!"

A fantastic explosion of sound startled everyone. From the west, Carmelita held an over-sized large caliber handgun above her head, having just fired it. The force of the kickback had caused her paws to be positioned vertically above her. Murray, Conner and Carmen turned towards the east, pivoting their heads in unison. An incoming SUV veered from left to right then struck the side of a building. A gaping hole drew everyone's attention to the chrome grille on the front. Smoke poured out from beneath the hood. The driver's door swung open and a dazed man stumbled from his seat, falling into the street with a splash.

Conner approached the driver, lifted his cane then brought the tip down, on his forehead, rendering the man unconscious. He lay outstretched on his back with two inches of water running down the street, creating a rippled wake on one end of his body from the current. The raccoon gave his cane a twirl then put it into the holster on his back. "Nice shootin', mamacita."

In reply, Carmelita shook her head, ignoring his semi-improper use of lexicon. She holstered her weapon and rubbed the side of her head. "It's getting late. I'm not sure why these idiots attacked the front of the hotel, but now that they know we're here we should put up a guard for the evening."

"Leave that to me," said Murray. "I just woke up a little while ago. I brought my PSP-three with me; I'll stay in the lobby. You guys should get some sleep. And, yeah… it's pretty freakin' obvious why these guys attacked."

"Oh?" Carmelita cocked an eyebrow.

"Because they don't like you guys, duh." Murray shrugged. "You obviously did something to piss off someone important who pays these dudes."

"Yeah." Carmelita approached him then leaned up and kissed the side of his face. "Thanks for aiding us… you helped protect my children back there… I appreciate that." She reached into her vest and pulled out a stash of her own favorite treat. A bag of fresh jellybeans; she offered him the entire bag. "It's not much, but I _know_ you like them."

Murray's eyes widened. "Awesome!" He took the offered bag and grinned broadly. "You're totally freakin' awesome, Miss Fox…er, rather… Mrs. Cooper. Yeah… you know what I mean. Thanks!" The hippo hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the vibrantly colored van then used the back of his wrist to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes. "Yeah, I'm just gonna' move the van then I'll be in the lobby for the rest of the evening. You guys totally head inside and chill out, just leave everything to me, gang."

"Just stay sharp, okay?" She offered a faint smile then waved to her children, swirling her paw in a circular motion above her head. "Conner, Carmen… rally! We're heading inside. This storm is beyond problematic; let's get out of the weather. We need some shuteye. Now that they know where we are, we should make a short night of this." She moved for the main hotel entrance. "With this kind of weather, it should take a few hours to get back to their commanding office that all their men are down and out… we'll be leaving first thing in the morning. C'mon."

No one else said anything… They all went inside while Murray parked his van.

* * *

_A few hours later_…

**Bentley stopped near the baggage claim** and turned to face a crowd of spectators. He took his bag off the conveyer belt and made his way towards the circle of people. His curiosity got the better of him, helping to push aside his social phobia. The tortoise craned his neck from his shell, trying to see, but his demure stature made it impossible, despite his bionic leg implants.

"He was over there," said a voice at the heart of the crowd. "Nine millimeter round, that's about four hundred foot-pounds; I doubt the gunshot threw him _this_ far."

Another voice. "A baseball bat might displace about eight hundred foot-pounds. _That_ could have been enough to throw him."

The first voice added, "Witnesses _did_ say an attacker hit him _after_ the gunshots were heard. But everyone had their heads down, no one actually saw the physical blows being exchanged."

"What else has the force to knock him off his feet like that?"

"What about one hell of an uppercut?" the first officer mused. "I found a wallet here."

Bentley made his way around to a gap in the crowd at the other end and wiggled through. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of two first-response police officers kneeling over the body of a dead canine. "An uppercut that lifts an opponent off the ground would be greater than the impact of a nine millimeter round." He cleared his throat again and said, "If I may… The energy required to do this is measured in MGP, where _M_ is the _mass_ of the victim, _G_ is the acceleration required to break the force of gravity, and _H_ is the height to which the victim was lifted. A realistic value for the height might be only _point one_ meters. If this man weighs about one hundred kilograms, an attack capable of lifting him from his feet would require about a _thousand_ joules of energy… basically, seven hundred foot-pounds. If the mass of the fist plus the forearm is about two to four kilograms, and the speed of the arm tops out between ten and fifteen meters per second, you can calculate the kinetic energy equal to one half the M times V to the power of two, meaning that in joules of energy, you're looking at…"

"Slow _down_." The first officer stood up, an intimidating buck with an array of antlers. "Listen buddy – this man was just murdered. He was shot then an attacker hit him, but with everyone's head down, we can't determine if it was a direct blow from a fist or if a melee weapon was used. No calculations are going to tell us what witnesses missed. That's up to the autopsy. Listen, buddy, just mind your own business." He turned from Bentley and lifted his voice. "That goes from EVERYONE here. Unless you can come forward as a witness, we need you to step back and go on about your business."

Bentley frowned and turned away. "I'm just trying to prove your suspect is probably an athletic or burley person." Quite suddenly, his eyes widened. His jaw went slack and he whispered, "Muggshot?" A man not too far away was watching the commotion with a stoic expression. He pushed his paws together and cracked his knuckles then pivoted and began to walk away from the scene. He didn't appear to be armed, however, he did flex his left fist, opening and closing his fingers several times.

Bentley narrowed his eyes and began to follow the man at a distance. "What the hell is _Muggshot_ doing here?"

From off to his left, a feminine voice said, "A thousand Joules, about seven hundred foot-pounds, would have thrown a one hundred kilogram man up by one tenth of a meter. This guy was thrown clear across the room – probably about thirty-five hundred Joules, and that's with the victim standing off balance at the time of the strike… most likely from having just received a nine millimeter round to the mid torso." She placed a paw on his shelled shoulder and added, "That guy isn't someone you want to tangle with. And his name isn't Muggshot. And it wasn't him who shot the guy; there were two people."

Bentley blinked rapidly then turned his head to face the wolverine with a Finnish accent. "You saw it? Why not say anything?"

"Because police don't like me right now; although they don't need to _know_ that they don't like me right now. But if they met me long enough to take a statement from me… yeah, that's all the time they'd need to learn that they wouldn't like me."

"That side of the law, huh?" Bentley kept his eyes on the departing man with the particularly large biceps. "His arms and fists are significantly more than two-to-four kilograms."

"_Significantly_… You've got that right," she said. "I'm surprised to see you here. You look exactly like the photograph Conner has as his desktop-wallpaper on his laptop." She didn't know his name, just his face. The wolverine thrust her paw out and said, "Javari Ahma."

"Bentley Wiseturtle." He took her paw but kept his eyes on the large framed man, headed for the door at a leisurely pace. "That pathetically egotistical swagger reminds me of Muggshot, too."

"Swagger? More like the gait of a muscle-bound man who has to waddle because the over-sized muscle bulges on his thighs make him almost bowlegged. If he's here, it's because Russia is looking for someone." Javari drew her paw from Bentley's hand and placed her palm against his chest. "Don't go after him. His partner will notice you following… then things get messy."

"How do you know Conner?"

"He's involved in something big but doesn't know it yet. Rather, he's looking for his parents who must have somehow stumbled onto something big in Russia. For as desperately as Russian OC wants Conner's new girlfriend to be dead… they would pass her up in a heartbeat to get a shot at whatever his parents are involved in… I don't think Russia is after the Cooper family so much as they just want _one person_ involved with that family. Or one _thing_, not sure – either way, watch yourself."

Bentley pivoted and, together, they started for the next closest exit. "Conner's parents are, from what I can piece together, looking for two different people. One was last seen in Russia. The other has never been seen that I know of – are you saying that man is on the same side?"

"Not even close – he'll kill anyone who gets in his way, as if they were competition. The guy who is dead," she hooked a thumb behind herself. "He took a bullet in the appendix. That overgrown meathead is the one that killed'em. Right punch to strike him in the ruptured appendix… and when the poor guy doubled over, that big ape delivered a left-handed uppercut that threw the miserable slob halfway across the room. That was to keep the guy from talking on his deathbed. Well, it worked – he's definitely dead, _now_ – died before the cops showed up."

Bentley frowned in silence. He was partially contemplative and equally disturbed. He went through the side-door exit then cut to the right, doubling back. He saw the man who resembled Muggshot out on the corner, talking on a cell phone. Bentley knelt down on the sidewalk and began rummaging around in his bag. "Give me a second," he said in a clear tone. "I just want to make sure I've got everything I need in my bag, real quick." He continued to rummage around for a moment longer then discretely withdrew a small metal wand. With the push of a button, a metallic umbrella opened around the end, the cone facing towards the man.

Bentley plucked a small attachment from the other end of the wand and pulled it out on a retractable cord. He placed the end into his ear and listened in on the man's conversation. He used a finger to toy with the settings on the wand then whispered, "Stay quiet, I can hear him." All the while, Bentley appeared to be kneeling by his bag, looking as though he were searching for a random toiletry or miscellaneous accoutrement.

On the corner, the man's voice was heard as he spoke into his phone. "Yeah, he died, so what? You said you didn't want him to talk." A moment passed then the man said, "He was going to die anyhow. Lung cancer and diabetes. What? You didn't know that we dogs could _smell_ certain types of cancer and low blood sugar? Ketones, I could smell his breath cause I was right up in his face. You don't _believe_ me? Yeah, well screw _you_, pal. Dogs can smell cancer and diabetes. Look it up, asshole." Another moment later, the man's tone changed and he said, "That's fine. Like I said, all I did was put the guy out of his misery. You wanted him quiet; he was going to die soon anyhow. What's done is done. I'm not some simpleton screw-up like my _brother_, okay? What's the next job?"

The man pushed his left shoulder up to keep the phone clinched against the side of his head. He took out a pen and wrote something on his palm. "What about those two idiots who took out Crowell? What? What do you _mean_ that Arty is still alive? Oh, you _think_ so. Since when do _you_ do any thinking? Fine, _fine_. I just want to find those two idiots – the one chick took my _gun_. I want it back. Wait, _what_? Crowell disappeared _before_ the raccoon and the vixen arrived in the lab? What about Arty's intern? Yeah, man… you know, the young chick with the red coat, hat and heels? I forget what her name was – she helped Crowell out around the lab a few days a week. You think she was some sort of spy or assassin?" A short pause, then, "Okay, okay – I'm getting on the next plane, dirtbag. I'll see you when I get to Cuba."

The man shut his phone then put it into his pocket and looked down at his palm. "Gate 3A," he murmured. He spit into his hands and rubbed them together vigorously then went back inside the airport.

Javari rubbed her chin then leaned down and asked, "What'd he say?"

Bentley put the metallic wand back into his bag and stood up. "He's sore about a run-in with Conner's parents. But I don't think it happened here, nor was it very recently."

"It was probably in Russia. That guy stays in Russia except on the rare occasions that the government pays him to leave his post. He's run off more than a few pirate raiders who wanted access to some sort of unmapped region in the western end. The pirates I ran with really hated that guy. What else did he say?"

Bentley shrugged. "He referred to his brother as a screw up and said the man in the airport was about to die from something unrelated to this attack. Now he's getting on a plane at gate 3A. I'm not sure where the plane is headed next, but apparently it connects with Cuba at some point, because that's his next stop. He said he's going to _see_ the caller on location there, so I'm assuming they'll come _face to face_ in Cuba. If you're friends with Conner, where is he?"

"Miami, looking for his folks." Javari offered a smile. "I'm scouting the airport because it's where Conner would come through if he had to leave the country, since Florida is under water right now."

"Do you have a number I can call? I'll have him contact you when I find him."

"We've got one another's cell number. I'm just staying local in case things get dicey. I have a gut feeling. I usually only work in numbers with a factual base and reference point… but my woman's intuition says to stick around here right now."

"You're not _alone _are you?"

Javari shook her head. "No, my boyfriend is somewhere around. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tell Conner and Dawn that I said hello. "

"I, uh… I'll tell him." He then snapped his fingers and added, "Oh, and he said something about how canines can detect ketones and such. To me, that says his accomplice isn't a dog or related species of canid form." Bentley offered her a slight smile then took his bag and headed for the pedestrian footpath that led to another wing of the airport. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the wolverine walk off. "I've gotta' admit," he murmured under his breath, "She's smart _and_ in the know." He continued on his way, thinking to himself, '_It's nice to see a youth who knows their math. Maybe this world isn't doomed to morons after all_.'

* * *

A/N: _ Okay, long chapter! Again. Now that I've set up the character directions, everyone is going to fan out. There will be teams, so that I can help you guys focus on a small group of characters per scene. While it's fun to write a group of dynamic personalities all sharing the stage in unison… it can sometimes get a little difficult to follow. There's plenty of time for "THE GANG'S ALL HERE", later on in the story. For now, however, I want to break down into small groups. _

_  
We finally see what happened to Muggshot's brother. We also see that he's still involved and by sending him to Cuba, he's remaining in the Atlantic area. It's a sure bet we'll see him again, soon. I'm not sure whose side he'll be on just yet… I gotta think about it. _

_A few chapters ago, I'd asked everyone who they liked more… the Tiikeri twins or Javari and Sergei. With Javari's troubled past and Sergei's boisterous personality, not to mention their budding and overly-rushed romance… people have said they like the couple and want to see them more. Well, they're back! Don't worry, though… I'm sure the Tiikeri sisters will make at least one or two more appearances before the end of the story! A lot of people started to like DJ after she opened up to Dawn about her own past. Well, don't worry… I already know for SURE that DJ will make another appearance. It'll be an important one, too! _

:D

_All right, in the next chapter, we'll he headed back to Prague. We've not been back there for a while… not since Lament of Carmelita. They'll be revisiting the ruins of the laboratory that was demolished under the rubble of the castle, not far from town. That's where the cloning process was done for Karla and Stephan's assistant. Take care!_

_-me_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter -16-

_Sixteen hours later…  
Prague, Czech Republic_

**A cloudy breath dissipated before Carmelita's nose** in the cold Prague night. She folded her arms, cutting her gaze to her 'team'. Thomas Gerard was cut and dry average. He wasn't the smartest agent she'd ever met but he wasn't a complete idiot, either. Winthrop, though… she wasn't sure why he was here. He was still timid and shy, regardless of the fact that he somehow managed to say what was on his chest after all these years. Now he was having trouble with making eye contact.

Then there was a young couple she didn't know. For some reason, she didn't trust them to be upstanding citizens. Friends of Conner and interviewed by Bentley before the flight out of Miami, the wolverine had proven herself to be linguistically capable and mathematically superior to most calculators. The vixen had to admit to herself, the young girl, only about twenty years of age, was capable of advanced math in only seconds. While she lacked some measure of common sense, her arithmetic understanding could not be denied.

And therein laid the problem. The machine built by Stephan to keep Karla Chintzy's body in cryo-stasis… was programmed by the oldest international language ever… math. A computer historian wouldn't have been able to operate the machine, it was programmed in math and the user interface was mathematical in layout. The jackal back in Miami explained it was Stephan's way of making computers, supposedly back before the modern computer even existed.

Javari's choice in mate, Sergei, was a wildcard. He was able to act like the perfect gentleman. He was able to pilot an automobile like a professional stunt driver. He had some sort of family ties to organized crime but shunned the Russian OC. Carmelita approved, but felt he was hiding himself in order to behave around her and Gerard.

Finally, Carmelita's daughter rounded out the team. She was academic, intelligent, calm under fire and graceful. She was a capable young woman with a good heart, a quick mind and an athletic body. The vixen couldn't have been any prouder of her daughter. Right now, Carmen and Sergei were using shovels while Javari operated a backhoe. Behind them, Thomas Gerard was holding a conversation with two local police officers, one of which spoke English.

Winthrop was holding a small handheld monitor unit, performing a scan on the parameter to ensure the pile of rubble wouldn't shift beneath the group or their rented backhoe. As it turned out, Winthrop Weasel was pulling his weight and wasn't getting in the way. She couldn't help but question his motives. She deduced he had two reasons… one, to help Thomas Gerard for lack of being anything more than an intern in his youth… and two, to try and prove himself to his ex-boss.

She drew a small plastic clip from her pocket and clamped it over her ear. Carmelita pushed a paw into her other pocket and used her fingertips to manipulate the controls of her cellphone. After a few seconds, a the clip in her ear made an audible chirp followed by the international ring connect tone. Bentley's voice came over the earpiece.

"How're my boys?"

"Conner and Sly are doing well. We've been lying low – the National Guard and the State Police are still out front, investigating the shootout scene. It's a good thing this city was evacuated from the wildfires. They're not as thick in numbers now that the second hurricane hit. Also, I've gone up on the roof and repaired the generator; the hotel has power, now."

She folded her arms, watching Sergei and her daughter work with the other girl. "What was wrong?"

"There was a piece of lumber wedged into the blades – even with all that wind, it wasn't able to generate power. Once the batteries were depleted, everyone sat in the dark. I thought the unit may have been damaged from the storm or that the leads to the turbine were shot but… just a piece of debris. The solar panels could stand to be replaced, though."

"Not my concern, you have power – that's what matters." Carmelita shifted and refolded her arms. "Did you speak to Kalen? He _does_ realize that Karla should be dead, right? I mean, she was thrown into liquid nitrogen. Yeah, that stuff doesn't need power to stay cold, but eventually it boils away and needs to be replaced. She's probably decomposing."

"No, I spoke to this 'Kalen' character and found out the whole story." A pause from over the line… Carmelita imagined him adjusting his bowtie or something… then he continued to speak. "See, Stephan… whose name is apparently 'Niall' (A/N: _pronounced 'Neil'_) had rescued her, thawed her and placed that body back into stasis. If the power supply really is a self-sustaining unlimited supply of energy, it's feasible that she's survived."

"And that's the problem," said Carmelita. "She's not on our side. She's not someone we can control. Using her to help us is like playing Russian roulette."

From over on the rubble pile, Sergei announced, "I heard that!"

"I don't trust her." Carmelita sighed. "If we have to use her help, we need a sure-fire way of converting her, so to speak. Any ideas, brain-boy?"

"Kalen says he's hoping that there will be some way to reprogram her before waking her up. I don't see how it's feasible, though. Didn't you say she was some sort of freak at heart?"

The vixen grimaced and turned away from the rubble pile. "She's a reincarnated freak. She murdered my doppelganger and I'll be damned if she comes after _me_. I'd rather we just cut the power and let her rot – however I understand that killing her is how she's able to attack… My doppelganger took her down and supposedly this freak possessed the other Carmelita's body. I still remember the debacle. If there's no clear way to control her mind, I don't want her waking up."

"I'm drawing blank, Mrs. Cooper."

"Geeze, Bentley… twenty years – I think we should be on a first name basis by now." Carmelita sighed then said, "Isn't there an artifact like the mask of Dark Earth that can bring out the good in someone, or something like that?"

On the other side of the line, Bentley drew in a sharp gasp then began talking to someone. With a hand over the phone receiver, his conversation was muffled. After a moment, his voice cleared and he said, "Murray is a _genius_!"

The vixen balked. "Pardon? _Murray_ is a genius?"

"Of course," he exclaimed. "Here, hold on." The line went silent.

Seconds later, Murray's voice came over the line. "Oh, hey, I'm totally sorry I'd eavesdropped on your conversation; oh and thanks again for the jelly beans!"

"Get to the point, Murray – Bentley said you're a genius – did you have a good idea?"

"Yeah! It's a pretty obvious answer, though… You guys probably didn't think of it because you're all pretty tired."

The vixen face-faulted. "You're tired, too, Murray. You stood guard in the lobby last night while everyone slept. What's your idea?" Her tone was short and terse.

"You're totally trying to wake up that chick who could move objects around with her mind, right? Don't wake her up just yet…"

"While that's a good idea, I had the same one… so get to the point, what else have you got for me?"

"I'll get a hold of my old Master, the Guru," said Murray. "I'll have him meet you guys there. He'll be able to get into her head 'n stuff. If he sits down and really puts some time into his subject, he can totally change their outlook on life. He's totally awesome like that. He'd moved from New York City's Central Park to San Francisco's Height Asbury about five or six years ago. But I know how to get a hold of him. We'll fly him out there, right away… just don't wake up that crazy lady until he arrives."

Carmelita paused, rubbing her jawline. "That… might actually _work_. Provided he's not a conman… but then again, I followed you guys while you worked with him… all the way to Kane Island. From what I'd seen, he might not be a conman, I was just never able to make up my mind about what he made some of your enemies do…"

"No way, he's the real deal for sure! You'll totally need him. Here, I'll give the phone back to Bentley now. I'm trying to show Jing King how to bust a move. Later!"

Carmelita furrowed her brows. "Bust… a _move_?"

Bentley's voice returned to the line. "Yeah, he's showing her how to dance. They're getting along really well. _Too_ well, if you ask me."

She groaned, placing a paw over the phone's earpiece in her ear. "Must _everybody_ need companionship? Look at Winthrop and Gerard? They're able to put their business first and all that dramatic semantics on the backburner… I can completely respect those two for it, too."

"I heard that," called Winthrop in much the same manner as Sergei had said, a moment prior. Carmelita waved her paw in a dismissing fashion, trying to concentrate on her phone call.

"Is this old man even still alive?"

Bentley cleared his voice over the line. "Definitely. He's heading up the new peace revolution that's been gaining momentum over in California. It's the hippy era _all over again_. You know what they say, though… time is like a river and history eventually repeats itself. Like Murray said, don't wake up Karla until the Guru arrives."

"How do we even know he'll help us?"

"Murray says he's absolutely positive the Guru will help. I don't know if he'll stick around, but… at the very least, Murray is sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Guru will show up to help with Karla. I'll let you know if we're able to contact him… _that_ is my worry; Murray is confident we can contact him in a timely fashion but… he's always been more optimistic than myself. I'll keep you updated."

"All right. Give the _boys_ my love… Sly and Conner, not Murray or the rest of them, obviously."

"Obviously," repeated the turtle with a chuckle. "Take care."

The senior inspector reached into her pocket and disconnected the call. She cut her gaze back towards the rubble pile just in time to hear Javari, sitting at the controls of the backhoe, shout, "Mrs. Cooper, I think we've found it!"

* * *

_The next morning…_

_Miami, Florida…_

**The cellphone chirped, transferring the signal to Conner Cooper's Bluetooth earpiece.** He placed a paw to his ear, adding pressure on the unit until he felt it was snug and comfortable. A tone played over the headset. His eyes shifted across the lobby to Murray and his father, who were having a conversation with Bentley and Dawn. Over by the doors, Jing King had her arms folded, looking out at the steady rain. Another ring…

A feminine voice answered on the other end of the line. "Hey, love – staying out of trouble I hope," she said.

Conner shifted, turning away from the lobby. "No, mom, it's me. We had another small skirmish about an hour ago."

Her tone turned professional. "Are you guys all right, Conner?"

The raccoon teen tightened his jaw and sighed. "Je suis tres frustre. Ils me traite comme un enfant. Comment puis je me prouver lorsque je n'ai aucune chance de le faire?"

Carmelita knew he only reverted to the language he was schooled in if he was exceptionally disheartened, disappointed or, as he'd just said to her, _frustrated_. Her voice sweetened in a motherly way; she replied in French. "Conner, Mon ange," she trailed of for a second, hoping to soften the blow first. Over the line, he could hear her lick her lips in apprehension as if trying to figure out how to approach his concerns. Finally, her tone grew stern, as if lecturing him. "Toute la vie tu seras juge, c'est comme ca que le choses sont. Si tu essaies d'etre un home, tu ne peut pas venir pleurer a ta mere a chaque fois que tu est fruste. Peut etre que c'est ton probleme, si tu te conduis comme un enfant, les autre te traiterons comme un enfant… Si tu est fort, et si tu ne te laisses pas fruster trop facilement, les gens te traiterons en adulte." Before he could reply, she added, "Drop the subject; if the only reason you're calling is to tell me that they wouldn't let you fight… then I'm on _their_ side in this matter."

He drew in a deep, slow breath then expelled it through his nose, eyes shut. "Murray's Guru had a connector flight in New York City. It left about thirty minutes ago from what I've heard. I've not seen Kalen since last night. Everyone is fine after this most recent attack." He paused, coughed into his left paw then told her, "It's just weird, mom. They're touting me as some sort of Master Thief genius for stealing this cane from Bentley but… I didn't even _do_ anything special. If I'm so amazing, why are they shuttling me away? I _want_ to fight." His temper began to flair up and he bounced back and forth between French and English. "Ils me traite comme un enfant, it's not fair. And furthermore, I'm _not_ crying to my mother every time I get frustrated. Yeah, it's true, je suis tres frustre, but I turn to you when something is bothering me. _THIS_ is bothering me! This is my family; it's in my _blood _to help! Why can't anyone see it? I'm _hardly_ calling to 'cry' to my mother, I don't '_cry'_ to anyone, dammit."

Carmelita's audible sigh over the line caused him to freeze. He waited for her to respond, unwilling to say anything further for the time being. After a moment, she told him, "You _are_, Conner. I want you to be at the top of your game, and I want you to be man enough to protect this family… but you're still only fourteen. I love you and I'm proud of you and your achievements… not stealing the cane, but it was inevitable anyhow. You didn't earn it – you took it because you wanted it out of greed. But in the end, you still did something that really impresses me: You found your parents – we were doing our best to stay off the grid because this is a dangerous situation… but you managed to find us. You'd make one hell of a cop one day."

"First of all," he said, clinching his paw into a fist. "That cane belongs to the family, not Bentley. Secondly, I borrowed it. I have _every intent_ of returning it." His tone changed. "On a side-related note, dad hasn't even so much as asked for it back… I'm kinda' surprised." He cleared his throat then continued. "I have every right to wield this. I saved Carmen's _life_ the other night. She was about to take a bullet and I repelled it! Do you think a wooden training stick would have deflected a round like that?" The pace of his speech quickened, his tone elevated from frustration, anger and the sense of feeling misunderstood. "You know guns so freakin' well, you tell me! Guess what, it's a good thing I took that cane, or _else_ Carmen would be…!"

"Excuse me!" Carmelita interjected, causing Conner to grow silent. He looked down at the handset in his paw then lifted his head, glaring at a wall. His mother waited for a second, letting her son compose himself then said to him, "You will _not_ raise your tone to a disrespectful level when speaking with your mother. I want you to calm down. I never took that cane away from you when we saw one another, now did I? No, I sure as heck did _not_. Having it is one thing – the way you obtained it is a completely different matter. The best way you can help your father and I… is to _stay alive_. I mean it. Yes, I'm _glad_ you were there with that cane at the right time… Carmen owes you her life… but we're a family – that's what we do for one another. We owe one another our life many times over for many different reasons. We're blood; we're a family. Right now, you're all my aspirations, hopes and dreams rolled into one living being. If you get yourself killed I would be crushed."

Conner remained silent for another moment. His mother grew quiet as well. After a short pause, he murmured, "I just want a chance to show them we're all equal here… and that I can help."

"Sly and I are expendable but if we died, who would avenge us? Our children. Do I _want_ my children to avenge me? _No_, of course not. But we're a family, here. If things got bad, that's what would happen… I need you to be more accepting of your role – I'm not letting Carmen run out into a gunfight, either. When I saw both of you under fire the night before I left for Prague… I'll be honest, Conner – it made my heart stop. That was _scary_, watching my children dodge rounds." She changed the subject and softened her tone of voice, telling him, "I'm glad you let me know the status of Murray's Guru – it gives me a time frame to work with. Just do me a favor and stop going out of your way to help… when the time comes for you to have an active field role, you'll know. And when you act accordingly, everyone will see you in the spotlight… but trying to run out onto the stage prematurely isn't the way to get recognition, okay? You have nothing to prove, we already know what you're capable of and we're proud of you."

Again, Conner sighed softly. "Thanks… I don't mean to be frustrated. I honestly don't mean it… I'm trying to curb this temper of mine – I bottle it up until the contents come under pressure… then… bam."

Over the line, he could hear her expel a single breath, as if offering him a half-hearted chuckle. "You're a chip off the old block, Conner. Just… don't be so eager to run onto a battlefield, okay?"

"Merci."

"De nada," she replied in Spanish. "I've got to go, babyboy. Try not to get too excited, sweetheart. There's a lot of things you don't understand right now… it's a pretty serious situation. Getting in over your head can be deadly. Give your father my love."

"Yes ma'am." His voice was now softer, if not slightly more distant sounding. He disconnected the line and dropped his paws outwards at his sides, feeling somewhat misunderstood. He glanced over his shoulder at Dawn and offered her a thin smile – she was the only one who saw him as more than just a boy. From across the room, she caught his expression and smiled in return. Just the simple sight of her bright visage put his heart at ease for now.

Conner walked across the lobby, pushing his phone into his pocket. "So what's going on?"

Bentley glanced over at the hybrid raccoon. "Well, for now… we stay put. I managed to put a tracking beacon on one of the attackers – we let him and one other guy get away on purpose. The problem is… now they know our exact location, so we'll have to move."

"Understood." The younger Cooper pushed his paws into his pocket, along with the phone against his right thigh. "That's cool… what do we do in the mean time?"

Sly offered his son a light shrug. "Actually, we do nothing right now. Hey…" His facial features brightened. "Want to go patrol the city? Just us, we can go running together… how does that sound? A little father-son action. Are you up for it?"

The teenager paused to give it some thought. "…Yeah, why not?"

Bentley grinned. "Good. The both of you can find us a new place to stay. Make that a priority. I want to get us moved tonight – I'll look around and find Kalen so we can keep him in the loop. You guys go get changed and head on out. Call me when you find a good place. Use the binnocucom communicator channel – I don't trust cellular or satellite in this area; it's a hot zone."

Sly gave his friend a 'thumbs up' gesture, smiled and placed a paw on his son's shoulder. "Let's go upstairs and get changed, then."

Conner offered Dawn a soft smile. The two embraced without a word then he followed his father to the staircase and up to their room on the fourth floor.

* * *

_A few short hours later_…

**"We only have another two hours of sunlight at most**." Carmelita Cooper glanced at her wristwatch then lifted her eyes to Winthrop and Thomas Gerard. She narrowed her gaze then approached the men. The vixen abruptly stepped between where they stood and the unearthed cryo-stasis chamber. Even standing in their way, the men continued to gaze through her, leering up at the glass-like cylinder housed in the machine's metallic frame.

Behind her, encased in transparent gel, Karla Chintzy's body seemed to hover in the container. Fully nude, her opulent form was displayed in a frozen state. The senior inspector glanced over her shoulder. Karla's vibrant green eyes were open, her ears were perked, her tail was fluffed up and bushy looking. It felt as though the woman was glaring back at Carmelita with a coquettish, sexy looking grin tugging at the corners of her muzzle.

A delicate snow-hued veneer of fur covered the woman from head to toe. The elegant pearl covering was offset by tasteful pink highlights, which spiraled from her paws, up her arms, and coiled about her ample breast. Her luscious, ever-youthful body was perfectly engineered in every conceivable way by her genetic creator – the sculptor who perfected her as an object of living art.

Encased in the transparent gel, every individual feature and every distinguishing detail was presented to the eyes of all who were in attendance. The perfection of her genetically engineered form was so flawless that she seemed almost _illustrated_ in a way. The 'come-hither' look, the effeminate lay of her bangs, framing her porcelain visage… She had a body built for mating and a face sculpted for adoration.

Carmelita sneered and turned her attention back to Thomas and Winthrop. "She was _designed_ to be attractive – people don't look like that in real life. She's not real – she was cloned off of a pretty girl then modified to be a fantasy lover. But it turns out that she's no dream-girl at all; in fact, she's a downright _nightmare_. Trust me, she's fully capable of letting you get close in order to better kill you. Looking like she does only makes her a better, more efficient killer."

Winthrop rubbed the bottom of his jaw. "Is it true that she tried to sleep with Sly Cooper?"

The vixen clinched her teeth. "Yes, it's true. I'm not sure how you knew that but… she didn't succeed. Out of frustration, she stole some of his DNA, cloned him and had him altered very slightly… she was able to seduce and bond with the cloned version of my husband. He didn't live very long. All she wanted to do was to bare his offspring – why? I don't know. She was built for killing and modified for gestation. In the end, she's a freak of nature. She _should_ be dead, but it turns out that Stephan rescued her body from the liquid nitrogen, cleaned her up and put her into stasis."

Again, Carmelita glanced over her shoulder at the ethereal beauty, suspended in the transparent container. The way the clear gel had hardened when freezing, any air bubbles and the rise of her fur-strands above her skin and coat created the illusion of a translucent aura, glowing around her body. Karla's dreamy green eyes continued to gaze down at the trio, as if offering a suggestive facial expression to them.

Thomas pushed his paws into his pockets. "She looks as though she was frozen during the heat of desire."

A shake of the head. Carmelita said, "She probably knew that there was only a fraction of a chance that someone would come along and turn this thing off to let her out… she wanted to look a certain way should someone come along and find this machine buried beneath the rubble of this castle. Had some man come along, he would not have been able to resist letting her out – he would have felt like she was looking directly at him, with a feral passion burning in her eyes… Most likely it was her last conscious act, in order to increase the chances of future self preservation."

Gerard tilted his head somewhat. "Either that, or she was frozen while looking at the man who put her in there… perhaps she had feelings for him and the look on her face was perfectly captured when the solution imprisoned her."

She shrugged. "If she did offer Stephan that look, it didn't work on him… she's in there and Stephan visited Sly and myself down in Central America before disappearing forever. Actually, I think Kalen said his _real_ name was 'Niall.' It makes no difference. He obviously wouldn't have been affected by her gestures or pouty expression."

"Unless of course…" Thomas grinned. "If everything you say is true, then this man could have made himself another clone of her. However, the mate version would have been more complacent and not designed to kill everything, right? I'll be honest, I'm surprised we found this machine; I'm surprised it's still in operation and the fact that we found this woman inside of it… I'm almost ready to believe you about all this weird stuff that happened twenty years ago."

"It's way more complicated than you realize," replied Carmelita. "I'm not sure how Stephan put her into this thing… _that_ is what bothers _me_ the most. This chick got her tail tossed into a vat of liquid nitrogen… then the castle collapsed. Who dug her out, put her into the stasis machine… then _reburied_ her to preserve the machine? That's just odd to me. Why go through all that trouble? Why dig her tail out, put her into proper stasis… then burry the machine in the rubble? What's the point? And that's a _lot_ of work for one man to have done alone… So obviously, Stephan … _Niall _was _not_ working alone the night he found her."

Carmelita's ears perked up in the crisp evening air. She held her breath and listened. The sound of an engine closed on their position. She slowly expelled the breath through her nose, creating a plume of steam in the chilly twilight air. She cut her eyes towards the sunset and squinted. Two small round dots came into view… headlights. "I see a taxi cab approaching," she murmured. "That must be our guy – he goes by the name 'Guru'. Don't ask; it's a long story. He's pretty old and mumbles when he speaks, but… for some reason, you'll find it fairly easy to comprehend him. I don't quite understand how he's able to sound intelligible, myself… Let me do the talking, Thomas and Winthrop… understood?"

"No problem."

Winthrop added, "Understood."

Carmelita's cell rang. She lifted the handheld object to her ear and said, "Go ahead."

It was the voice of Javari. "Sergei spotted an incoming car – looks like a cab. Female driver, older looking male passenger. You want him to intercept them?"

"No, hon – this is the guy we're waiting for," said Carmelita with a defeated sounding sigh. "I'm not looking forward to this… you two get your tails back here – we'll need all the people we can get if this chick gets violent. Did you find her some clothes, or, at the very least, something that looks like it will _fit_ her?"

"We're on our way, Mrs. Cooper. And, yes, I found an outfit that will look cute on her." The line ended. Javari simply had no idea about this woman – the wolverine actually amused herself by shopping for an outfit for the luscious looking female in cryo-stasis.

"I didn't want her to wear flattering outfits," the vixen grumbled under her breath. Carmelita Cooper's eyes lowered to the ground and she steadied her breathing, ready for anything. She glanced back up at the incoming cab and frowned. "This had better work…"

She began pacing to burn off nervous energy. Once the cab arrived, Thomas approached the driver, paid him and greeted the short elder man that stepped from the back of the taxi. Carmelita glanced up at the Inspector and the Guru. "Do me a favor, Gerard… Take him somewhere to sit – build him a fire or something, to keep warm… I want to wait until Javari gets back with the clothes, first… let's be respectful, here. We need to get this chick out of the tank first, anyhow."

Quite suddenly, the elder koala bounded across the lot. He had a wooden staff in his hand and with a surprising nimble grace hopped across the rubble and rocks surrounding the parameter around the unearthed cryo-stasis tube. He dropped to the flattened ground around the mechanical chamber and lowered to one knee, gazing straight into the crystalline ball hanging from the top of his staff.

Winthrop blinked and approached Carmelita from the rear left and whispered, "What on earth is he doing?"

The vixen ran her paw up through her thick dark hair and shook her head with a soft sigh. "I don't even know."

The elder man began chanting in an archaic language. Cooper shook her head and approached the gnarled old mystic. "Old man, what are you doing? She's the one we want you to control."

He looked up at Carmelita and in a raspy voice, his language as plain as conceivably possible, he said, "… I know."

"You speak English?" Carmelita blinked.

Winthrop, further back near the surrounding rubble pit, asked, "He does…?"

With a wry grin, the old man asked, "I do? But yes, my dear, I speak whatever language you require me to speak – did you know this one here is a Dreamtime spirit?" He lifted his cane and wrapped the knotted end against the glassy surface. "Her true form is beyond my power to control, but in that body she's quite receptive to coercion. In fact, I'm sure that I could permanently change her outlook on anything you wish." In a jaunty fashion, he swiveled his head, tilting from left to right several times then, in a self-amusing fashion, added, "She's also _quite _the looker, isn't she? …Ooga booga! Ungha Bunga – there, is that what you expected of me?"

The vixen blinked and narrowed her gaze. "You lecherous old tart. You can have her – I hope she explodes from the inside out."

To the rest of the group, the Guru shook his head and babbled incoherently. The raspy old voice told Carmelita, "You wouldn't want that. It would release her spirit back to the Dreamtime. She's a feisty one – she's also a very old soul. She's an important totemic spirit – she was involved with The Creation."

Carmelita groaned. "Yeah, yeah, the naga serpent harp player at the gates of Babylon, blah, blah, freakin' blah. A reincarnated freak of the week. She doesn't impress me, old man. I'm glad you're all hopped up about her, though. So she's evil outside the body, huh?"

"There is no form of evil or good in the slipstream of The Dreamtime, my dear – she's simply playing her part in what was necessary during the beginning times. Not to say that she was around in the first days but she is certainly involved in the old times before recorded history."

"So she's not evil, huh? That just means she's a _bitch_. Okay, let's get her tail out of the tank."

"She's of no allegiance; she plays a part of many parts. She's just as susceptible to manipulation as the rest of us. She's undoubtedly a pawn of a pawn of a pawn, with pawns of her own at some point of time. Her many facets involve the juxtaposition of…"

"Whoa, enough about the distance between and the correlation of the lining up of stars with bullshit in a field of cow pies – I seriously don't have time for that. Is she going to be problematic?"

He face-faulted. "She'll be quite congenial. But she's a spirited one." The Guru walked away from Carmelita. The further he walked, the less his words made sense. Within several steps, his lexicon was reduced to clicks, clucks and blathering. The whimsical banter sounded almost musical in a sense.

Again, Winthrop approached. "What… in the heck… is that guy talking about? Did this guy come straight out of the asylum or something? I mean, that crap he's saying makes absolutely no sense."

"I know what he means, though," she said.

Winthrop blinked. "No, I mean those aren't even real words, it sounds like a child with a mouth full of food."

She blinked and glanced back at the weasel. "You didn't understand what he was saying?"

He pointed across the way to the old man. "That weird noise he's making? The ooga-booga bango, wango, jango crap he's saying? Those aren't even words. He is rhyming silly sound effects. I thought you were humoring him by offering randomized rebuttal… like calling him a lecherous old tart and whatnot."

"I…" She blinked again, and tilted her head, sort of glaring at the middle-aged man. "Winthrop, I understood every word he said in plain English." She folded her arms and blinked at him again. The woman sniffed then said, "Were you even listening to what he said? He knows a ton about that wacko chick and he claims she's controllable."

He backed away from Carmelita and shook his head. "You really started acting weird ever since you went to Kane Island, over two decades ago. You come back, claim that Sly is a constable – he didn't even have to go to an academy. Then you two break up, you claim you never worked with him if anyone ever asked… then you have _kids_ with him, after claiming that immortals tried to take your job… and now… _this_. What did I see in you?"

Carmelita locked eyes with the man momentarily. She froze. After a moment, she said, "I'm at a loss for words. Your sudden gull impresses me; I'm insulted by your ignorance and I'm flattered, all at once. Just… do us both a favor and get over me, please."

"With pleasure." Winthrop backed away slowly. "It's taken two decades, but I think _this_ definitely takes the cake. I don't know how to handle you – I don't even know what to say. You're nothing like you were when I started working as your intern. You're… just… you're a trip."

Carmelita smirked. Carmen leapt from atop of a large mountain of rubble, pushed over by the backhoe. She dropped to the ground and a large billow of dust rose up around her feet. She placed a paw upon her mother's arm and said, "She's not a _trip_, Winthrop… my mother is the _whole vacation_." The younger Cooper female then placed her paws upon the weasel's shoulders and turned him towards the cryo machine. "She's able to understand Aboriginal Australian lexicon and you're doubting her education? She speaks multiple languages fluently and not only caught Sly Cooper, she now owns his tail and made him stop stealing. How does one stop the world's greatest criminal, who could easily escape from any prison? Well, duh… you change him into a decent man with morals, who is accepted by modern society. If anyone is crazy, here, it's you… for not recognizing her ability and talent when she became larger than life. You're now, as you were then, very confused… why? Because you'll always be just an intern who doesn't stand out very much. Don't judge her for the things you don't understand about her."

Carmen patted the weasel on his shoulder and smiled. "Do yourself a favor, good sir… take a back seat and enjoy the ride. That's what happens when you're an average man surrounded by enlightened people. Do yourself a favor and know your role in life. Smile, nod and enjoy it. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Try not to sit there and understand it, because it will only bring you headaches and misery." She then patted him again – this time on the head, between his ears. "That's a good boy, now hang tight while the people with brains and personality figure out how to get that naked woman out of the freezer. Stand around and look like you know what's going on, would ya? Thanks!" Her boisterous, bubbly voice was dripping with sarcasm. She walked back to her mother, paws in her pockets and in a low voice, said, "I couldn't understand the old guy, either."

Carmelita rubbed her chin. "Maybe when he's directing his speaking towards the intended listener, they perceive what he says." She shook her head slowly then put an arm around her daughter. "I knew I did a good job raising you. I guess all the beatings worked!" She grinned in spite of her joke and hugged the teenager. "Thank you, by the way."

"No worries," said Carmen into her mother's shoulder. Her ear perked up and she stiffened. "Another car is coming."

Carmelita lifted her head, her ears shot straight up and she listened. "Yeah, the Russian boy's rented passenger van. I sent Javari for clothes and she buys _outfits_ for this jezebel hussy. I wanted to cover the stupid woman's naked body; I didn't want her to _look good_. We're surrounded by idiots on all sides, Carmen."

"Javari will be able to shut down this machine, I was looking it over earlier and the entire interface is written in math, like it was some sort of communicable language."

"Odd." Carmelita relinquished the hug and folded her arms. "Well, okay… can the two of you get it deactivated and get that chick out?"

"I think so." Carmen grinned and said, "I have to admit I'm surprised about Sergei, though. I really expected to gawk at the naked woman as much as Gerard and Weasel. But he only seems to have eyes for Javari. I mean, he looks at the woman in the chamber, everyone does, but… he doesn't leer at her. I have to admit, as a woman, I am impressed."

"I suppose; I've not been monitoring his actions – I've been too busy watching Gerard."

"What? Why?" Carmen eyed her mother. "You don't trust him? He works for Interpol, too."

"I believe he does work for Interpol," said Carmelita with a shrug. "But I believe that Interpol has no real involvement in my disappearance. He's not reported in to anyone when he 'found me' and I don't think he's been completely honest with me, so far. I can't place a finger on it, but… don't worry yourself with it, I'll watch him, you help me watch everyone else."

"Got it, mom." She walked back towards the cryo-stasis machine and, as Javari and Sergei's van approached, she flagged them down to the crude driveway in the circle at the center of the rubble. Carmen approached the passenger door and opened it for Javari then said, "You should have gotten this lady some sweat pants and a sweater, maybe a coat. She doesn't need to draw any more attention to herself than she's already gotten so far… but anyway… c'mere, I want you to see this machine. It's entire user interface is in _math_, as though it were some sort of language. I'll need your help to unfreeze this lady."

"Really? The buttons and everything… all math?"

"Everything is mathematical. I've never seen anything like it."

Javari grinned brightly. "That sounds freakin' awesome. Whoever wrote an operating system in math is my hero. Let's take a look." She grabbed the shopping bag full of clothes and followed Carmen over to the large metallic contraption at the center of the rubble pile.

The guru made his way back over to Winthrop and nodded with a soft, friendly smile. "For those Anangu who speak 'Yankunytjatjara', the word I would use is _Warpar_. But, if, for example, I spoke 'Pitjantjatjara', I might use _Tjukurpa_, even though neither of these words properly describes, nor do they directly mean The Dreaming. It is where Carmelita Cooper met this woman," he said, upnodding to Karla's inanimate body. "Perhaps the 'Arrernte' word, _Altyerre_ might work to help you understand it… but I am of the most ancient of people who celebrate the Dreamtime. My ancestors split into the Murrinh-Patha and the Pintupi and approximately four hundred other people and nations, of which many broke down into tribes and clans and villages. You should have seen your friend, decades ago, in the desert… She stood ten stories tall and paraded through the hot sand with the Mask of DarkEarth. Her Dreamtime journey helped her to understand what would come to pass for her… and even now she learns more about what she underwent in order to better help shape…"

Winthrop lifted both paws. "Whoa, back up. Okay, cool, you speak my language… but you're going way over my head. I'm not exactly interested to know these things."

"I'm not speaking your language," said the Guru with a smile. He waved to Winthrop and added, "You have a place in that woman's Dreamtime."

"Carmelita? She's married, old man!"

The koala shook his head with a chuckle. "No, my boy… _hers_." He lifted his stick, pointing the knotted, gnarled end towards Karla Chintzy. "Her 'Dreaming' helps shape her daily life. Her ideas, her behavior; it helps to influence who she is in the modern world. You have a place in her Dream, so it's a good chance you'll have some sort of place in her daily life, too."

Weasel frowned with incomprehension. He finally walked away, hands in his pockets.

The old man laughed gleefully, shaking his head. He watched while Javari and Carmen toiled over the computerized interface alongside the machine. After a short time, the small monitors on the side all changed from green to red. The blank screen on the far top corner of the stasis chamber displayed a flat, straight line on one side and a bar chart on the other.

Carmelita folded her arms. Sergei approached her from the right and asked, "What are those for, Senior Inspector?"

"The line is an EKG – when she returns to a state of animation, it will show her heart rate. When those bar graphs fill up to the line at the top, she'll be at the thaw temperature necessary to become conscious. She's still clinically dead, frozen in her torpor."

"How do you know all that stuff?"

The vixen deadpanned. She turned to glare at the Russian and simply said, "Science Fiction novels, movies, television shows – take your pick." She grew quiet and they team stood at the ready. Winthrop and Thomas remained off to the left, looking on in interest. Javari retrieved the clothes and hung them from a clothing hanger alongside the machine. Carmen sat down on a nearby rock and the Guru approached Carmelita and Sergei.

The bars on the screen climbed. A subtle flash filled the tank then dimmed followed by the EKG line displaying a chirp every few seconds. Carmelita frowned. "Well, she's alive. Can't say I'm overly thrilled about it, though." The pace became steady and soon normalized. The clear gel that encased her began to turn foggy. Vents at the top of the cylinder expelled steam.

"Now what is this that goes on, Senior Inspector?"

Carmelita cut her eyes to Sergei but kept her face directed towards the cloudy chamber before them. "It looks like there's a chemical reaction that's causing the fluid to turn into a gas form… then it escapes through the top. Most likely, when the crap clears out of there, she'll be at the bottom and, if it's anything like the novels, movies or shows I've seen in the past… she'll be unconscious. We'll have to figure out how to get her out, get her dressed and wake her up… I don't have any smelling salts on me, so… I say we leave her asleep for a while."

"Is good idea, no?" Sergei strolled over to his girlfriend, nodded to Carmen and sat down besides the wolverine.

Carmelita and the Guru exchanged glances then she lifted her gaze back up to the glass-like cylinder in the large mechanical chamber. "I hope your help won't be necessary, but I want you to assess her mentality, regardless. I've known her to say all the right things and stab people in the back later on… that won't happen again."

The Guru murmured an incomprehensible reply and sat down at Carmelita's feet. He settled down Indian-style and held his paws outwards in a Buddha-style manner. His eyes shut and he closed his fingers inward until his fingertips touched his palms. He began to chant softly, leaving Carmelita to shake her head with a roll of her eyes. "Only because I've seen all this mumbo jumbo do I even believe in your little mind tricks… but it's still corny, old man."

The Guru didn't offer a reply. He continued to chant softly.

The foggy interior of the glass cylinder darkened and the steam pouring out the top vents grew thicker. After several moments, the dark air began to thin out. Fans built into the top of the unit came to life, funneling out the last of the steamy gas. Carmelita leaned forward on the balls of her feet.

The fog lifted and Karla stood on her feet, glaring at Carmelita through the glass. Their eyes locked and the felox smirked. Her weak voice, raspy from decades without use, uttered the word, "_You_…"

Sergei, sitting over by Javari, called over to Carmelita. "So much for theory of unconsciousness, Tovarich."

A sigh. Carmelita drew in a slow breath then, controlling her years of harbored disgust, she said, "I've come to rescue you, Karla. I see you remember me. We have a lot to do and a lot has happened since you last saw me… It's now January of 2026. Sire, Donovan and Nathanial Carrington are all dead."

"The Reaper died," she wheezed. "I remember. In the end, _I_ was responsible for Donovan's death – he died a traitor. But I have to know… who dispatched Sire?"

"I'll explain everything when we figure out how to free you." Carmelita lifted a paw and waved Javari, Carmen and Sergei forth. "Unless you can teleport yourself out of there. We brought you some clothes, it's pretty cold out here. You look wet from that gooey crap you were in… it's two degrees above zero, Celsius."

"I also remember," she paused, her voice began to clear, growing melodic in tone. "…How I wound up in here. Then I remember having my head separated from my shoulders… then… I wake up face to face with the woman who led to my death both times. Don't think I am above holding a grudge." Karla offered a smile then lifted both her paws. The pink-furred markings that coiled around her arms, from her paws back up to her breast, began to glow.

Carmelita narrowed her gaze. "…_Shit_," she muttered under her breath. A bright light filled the area and the cryogenic tube shattered into thousands of plastic shards. The vixen lifted her forearm to cover her face. A powerful wave-like force knocked everyone back. Carmelita felt her body become light for a short period then gravity returned. She collided with the ground, temporarily blinded by the flash.

The dust settled on the area with Karla standing and everyone else scattered about the area on his or her back. The nude half-breed hopped from the chamber to the dusty, frozen ground. She glanced back at the clothes, hung with care on the side of the large machine then smiled. "Cute – someone has taste." Karla cut her head towards Carmelita, who lay motionless several yards away. "Ah, Carmelita Fox – it's been since yesterday for me… two _decades_ you say? That's quite a stretch of time." The nude woman sauntered towards the silent vixen lying on the ground.

Karla took Carmelita by her throat and lifted her up with a devious looking scowl upon her muzzle. The vixen remained slumped and motionless. Karla giggled with glee, giving her adversary a stern shake by the throat. "I'll break your neck like a ragdoll for what you did to me." She held the other woman's body aloft at a forty-five degree angle above herself.

Quite suddenly, Carmelita's eyes opened but they weren't brown. Instead, they were a vibrant shade of crimson. A wisp of smoke rose from Carmelita's fur and, there, in Karla's grip, the older-looking vixen began to melt. Karla's ears perked. "What is this trickery, Fox?"

A dazzling display of thick smoke surrounded Carmelita's body then disappeared. There, in Karla's grip was The Guru, held only by the cloth of his shirt. He quickly placed both of his paws upon Karla's head and their gaze locked. A mysterious smile spread across his face, followed by a goofy-sort of a chuckle. It turned into boisterous cackling, leaving Karla to grow angry over his playfully mocking sound.

"I'm going to smother the life out of you, old man," she said, jerking him down against overly ample cleavage. "And you're next, Carmelita Fox, wherever you are hiding!" The Guru, un-swayed and unfazed, kept his hands on either side of her head.

Quite suddenly, something struck Karla from behind with excessive force. She dropped to her knees yet the Guru never let go of her head. He fell to a crouched position in front of the fallen Karla Chintzy, cradling her face in his palms. An esoteric glow emanated from the soft veneer of facial fur. She groaned. Her eyes rolled up into her head and her body began to twitch spasmodically.

Carmelita, standing behind Karla's fallen form, dropped a piece of rebar on the ground. "Javari, grab those clothes and get'em over here. Let's get her covered up, I'm tired of lookin' at this naked fool."

The Guru continued soft chanting while holding tightly to either side of Karla's head. Everyone else crowded around the two, remaining quiet. Javari took the clothes off the hanger, draping them over her forearm. No one spoke.

Senior Inspector Cooper glanced at her wristwatch then looked up at Gerard. In a low voice, she said, "Told you guys she was a freak. Smothering someone with your chest? That's absurd – I'd sure like to see the Mythbusters dispel that one."

Carmen approached her mother and quietly said, "They've not been on the air in years. Besides, she has really little dainty looking paws. I doubt she could cover someone's whole mouth with those."

"I wouldn't mind it if she…"

Everyone turned to glare at Winthrop, who abruptly blushed and grew quiet. Silence resumed. After another several minutes, Carmelita checked her watch again. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed in frustration. "What in the hell are those two doing? Having mind-sex or something?" As if on cue, Karla shuttered one last time and became motionless. A moue of disgust wrinkled Carmelita's muzzle. "That was disgusting."

The Guru stood up and rolled his wrists like an entertainer then swept his right paw outwards, simply saying, "Tah-dah!" He backed away a few steps then took a bow as if to amuse himself. After that, he picked up his walking stick with the glass ball attached at the top. He sat down with his legs crossed and began to meditate.

"Well?" Inspector Cooper uncrossed then re-crossed her arms. "Now what are you doing?"

Carmen placed a paw on her mother's left arm. "I think he's mentally exhausted and that's his way of recharging." She eased her right foot out and nudged the nude woman, face down on the frozen ground. A soft breeze caused the felox's smooth white fur to flutter, like a wave across her form. Karla didn't even so much as stir by an inch.

Winthrop cut his eyes to his former boss. "You didn't bludgeon her to death, did you?" No one replied. The weasel knelt down besides Karla and placed two fingers against her neck. "Actually, she's still alive." He took the clothes from Javari and began to work them along Karla's arm. He rolled the unconscious woman over onto her back and worked the other sleeve onto her other arm then pulled the cloth fabric tight and fastened it in the front. Next, he took the skirt and fidgeted with the material until he figured out how to get it on her, followed by pantyhose and long socks. Next, he put his arms beneath hers, lifted her into a sitting posture and put a coat on her body then moved around before her and zipped it up. "She'll freeze out here, we should at least have some measure of decency about this situation."

With a light huff, Carmelita shook her head. "I suppose you're right about that. I admit I'm indifferent to it, though. Part of me thinks you just wanted to touch a naked woman for the first time and so you seized the day. Good job, but you're still a virgin."

The weasel glared up at Carmelita, eyes narrow. "N-not nice, Mrs. Cooper. I don't have to stand here and allow myself to be ridiculed by _you_. I held you to a higher, more professional level than th-that. Once again, I was wrong about you." He turned his attention back to Karla and put his arms around her waist. He eased her limp arms over his shoulders and carefully lifted her then struggled to pick up the woman, by sliding his left arm beneath her legs.

Carmelita gawked. "She's barely even a buck-ten, Winthrop! You get the balls to insult me then you can't even man up enough to lift up a woman two-thirds your own body weight. How could I even expect you to do one chin up, if you can't even lift your _own_ body weight."

Growing angry and frustrated, Winthrop growled from strain, lifting up Karla's body until he finally supported her in his arms. He paused to take a few breaths then said, "I'm one-ninety. She's closer to half my weight than two thirds. I'm not as scrawny as I look."

"I see where you store it," she replied, poking the weasel in his gut. "Where'd that come from, anyway? You sit at home sulking without doing any exercise? What've I taught you back when you worked for me? Health is important, Mister Weasel. You didn't listen to my advice, I see."

"Your ridicule doesn't bother me, it's only a fraction of the sting I felt from being _ignored_ by you. You completely disrespected us. You completely crapped on _our_ professional relationship."

"There never was an _us_, Winthrop. Get that through your head. You were an intern and I didn't have time for your googly-eye flirting. The reason you put up with my crap is because I _paid_ you to do so. I was your boss; you were expected to do what I asked without question. If you did, you would have furthered your career with law enforcement. Furthermore…!"

Karla groaned and everyone held their breath. She lifted her head slowly, looking up at Winthrop. Her head tilted, gazing down at the ground beneath her then she looked back up at Winthrop, who held her in his arms.

The half-breed felox murmured softly then asked, "Did _you_ dress me?" She glanced down at the clothes on her body. A faint smile was offered to the man and, in a gentle tone, she said, "Thank you." Karla placed her head upon Winthrop's shoulder, shut her eyes and began to breathe deeply. The weasel blushed.

Meanwhile, brilliant laughter erupted from The Guru, who clapped his paws together victoriously. He danced in place, performing a little circle on his right heel while clapping his hands. "Nash to-wash wan twan beeja! Flinkranjtianiana marvosa!" He then walked to Karla and Winthrop, patting the slumbering woman upon her silky headfur.

Carmelita sighed and shook her head. "Carmen, you and Javari try to figure out a way to get the power supply out of that stupid machine. Sergei, go heat up the van. Have mister Casanova-pants, here, lay her down and get her comfortable or whatever." She turned her head towards the other man and said, "Thomas, are you sticking around or what?"

"For now." The grizzly pushed his hands into his pants pockets from the cold.

"Stick around and watch Javari and my daughter. Don't let anything happen, I'm counting on you." She approached Carmen and whispered into the girl's ear. "_Watch him – I don't trust Thomas Gerard one little bit. He may work for Interpol but I question his motives. I trust that you'll keep an eye on him._" She then patted Javari on the shoulder. "Good job. After you guys figure out how to get the power supply out of that thing, _blow it up_. Destroy it – blast it into smithereens. I won't have a repeat of this ridiculous crap – cloning sentient life is in violation of law in just about every civilized country across the globe. This thing was involved in that – I want it to the point where _no body_ will repair it… _ever_."

The wolverine grinned. "With pleasure, Mrs. Cooper."

"Where are _you_ going?" asked Winthrop, still holding Karla.

"To make a phone call – it's time to think about our next move. Then, I'm going to arrange some sleeping accommodations so we can rest, followed by booking travel accommodations. If she wakes up hostile, I want you and Sergei to subdue her… and if you can't… at least make some sort of noise so the rest of us know there's trouble." She panned her eyes to Sergei. "While those two get comfortable in the back of the van, head into town and get gas – you have to return the rental van with a full tank or they'll charge us."

She clapped her paws together and everyone headed in a different direction. She then turned to the Guru and shrugged. "You can tag along if you want, but your job is done, here. I appreciate your help. What you do is up to you. Let me know soon, though… so I can book another ticket. We already have too many cooks in the kitchen, so I'll understand if you want to go off and do your thing." She walked away from the group, withdrawing her cell phone and dialing her husband's number.

* * *

A/N: _Okay, so… One of my reviewers, in the last chapter, asked about THE GURU… It gave me THIS idea… so I brought him in to control Karla's behavior. xD_

_In the game, he was never able to transform into other people, just inanimate objects… but after 20 years, I'm willing to wager he's gotten really good at his abilities… not to mention the fact that he was not transforming into Carmelita, so much as an inanimate version OF Carmelita. But it was a good enough trick to fool Karla, lol. I'm sorry for the lack of awesome action and exploding things, I just wanted to bring in the final piece of the puzzle – Karla's return. _

_Now, here's the thing… I didn't bring Karla back for myself. I had enough of a popular demand that I felt obligated to honor the request. So, I looked at how she died and who I wrote her and what kind of characters he was… and I based her off of that. Everyone was wrong – she retained her memories and she was pretty damn angry. Needless to say, her background works. The spirit side of her character, the harp playing Naga at the gates of Babylon… The Guru notes that it's part of her Dreamtime reality. I did some research last night on Dreamtime Mythology and Aboriginal Totem beliefs… I said, MAN… That works PRETTY GOOD for an explanation of Karla's wraith! I think I'll use it! _

_:D_

_Boy, I have one hell of a fever and a sore throat right now… hope I don't have that crazy Swine Flu, lol. With Karla having been away from the world for over twenty years, she'll have a low immunity to modern strands of virus, bacteria, flu, etc… She might wind up with a cold or something. We'll see what happens. _

_I'd also like to thank one of my co-workers, Jean-Luc DuFour. He's born and raised in France and when he got back from visiting his mother there for a week, I asked him to translate a little conversation for me. _

_This is what I'd written to JL for conversion and is the English version of what Conner and Carmelita said to one another on the phone, earlier in this chapter:_

Conner, the boy, says to his mother, "I'm just very frustrated. They're treating me like a kid. How am I supposed to prove myself when I don't even get the opportunity to do so?"

Carmelita (his mother) responds, "Expect to be judged all your life, Conner. That's just the way things are. Besides, if you're out there trying to act like a man, you can't come crying to your mother every time you become frustrated. Maybe that is your problem, Conner – if you act like a boy, your peers will treat you like a boy. If you display some mental fortitude, and if you don't let yourself get frustrated so easily, people will treat you like an adult."

_Jean-Luc wrote back:_

Conner, le garcon a sa mamman,"je suis tres frustre. Ils me traite comme un enfant". Comment puis je me prouver lorsque je n'ai aucune chance de le faire?

Carmelita (sa maman) reponds, toute la vie tu seras juge, c;est comme ca que le choses tu essaies d'etre un home, tu ne peut pas venir pleurer a ta mere a chaque fois que tu est fruste. Peut etre que c'est ton probleme , si tu te conduis comme un enfant, les autre te traiterons comme un enfant, Si tu est fort, et si tu ne te laisses pas fruster trop facilement, les gens te traiterons en adulte.

_Right away, I noticed that he spells mother, "Mamman" and, shortly thereafter, spells it, "Maman." I believe it should have two m's in the middle of the word… I doubt it's the ONLY mistake, we all make'em. So, he was probably typing it quickly and wasn't utilizing novel-grade grammar. However, since when would Conner or Carmelita speak in novel-grade grammar? So, I decided to leave it exactly as he wrote it… if there are spelling mistakes or typographical imperfections, I apologize! I imagine he doesn't have a program like Word2007 that can fix little typos and such, if you speak in French… at least he doesn't have it available to him, here in Maryland. Lol. He spent a few years teaching graphical art in Canada and now lives here, doing the same as well as working as the acting Education Services Administrator for the campus where I work. _

_Thanks for reading! Now you see how these three stories are starting to tie together… Now it's time to tie into Spy Cooper a little more! _

_So… I'll probably have the Guru head out, just so there aren't too many characters to keep track of… and I'll probably have Karla stick around for a while… It's time to unite this group and have them head to the Atlantis Dome for some royal butt kicking! :-O_

_See you soon!_

_-Kit_ Karamak


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter -17-

**A muddled voice was heard in the darkness.** "How can I even _trust_ you?"

A feminine muffled reply. "I can't fix the past – this is serious and you'll have to take it seriously. I don't know what I saw in you _or_ Slick. We'll chalk it up to bad mind washing. Get your tails in gear and _go_."

Then a second male voice joined the conversation heard through the wall. "Go? You wouldn't go with us?"

The woman groaned. "That isn't my responsibility. Now that I know what's going on and that nothing was resolved after almost a quarter century, I have a lot on my list. I'm staying in Miami. Just… this isn't your fight, anyhow. Go find them – it's a very good possibility that this somehow ties together so perhaps being on two fronts will help us finish this war that much sooner."

Another voice, this one more childish but louder – obviously Murray. "War, huh? No one said anything about this being a war but now that'cha mention it, what with all the attacks and stuff, it sure does feel like one. But you lied to Sly before, why would we pack up everything and head to Europe? Are you trying to get us away from the goal, lady?"

The woman sounded annoyed. "Look, I don't care what you do. Fine, don't trust me. Don't trust Winthrop's word, either. You could ask everyone else but you _can't_. We're talking about your children, too, Cooper. Don't be an idiot. Your wife _and_ your daughter. Furthermore, where is Kalen?"

The first voice sounded more somber now. "…I don't know. We haven't seen him in almost two full days now. I don't think he fled, but it's a possibility that he may have heard something and didn't want to involve us… so who knows, maybe he _did_ flee the camp. I'm headed to Europe to find my girls; I don't want Conner involved in this."

Conner Cooper sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, listening to the conversation continue through the wall. A fourth male voice presented itself. This one sounded a little nervous and reserved. "He already is, Mister Cooper – two of his friends are missing as well. This is a rather grave issue. On the legal side, there are two Interpol representatives missing, as well as three bystanders. On the family side, Conner's mother and sister are missing, as well as two of his friends and a man he knows has been trying to help him find his mother up until recently. However, from his career standpoint, two coworkers are missing, as well as the officer who did him a favor by not arresting him on the spot. Thomas' peers and supervisors are going to start searching for him soon."

"My hands are tied," said Sly in a melancholy voice. "There's no where I can leave Conner that I would consider safe. If I take him with me, it puts him in even more danger, because I'm probably a target by whoever took Carmelita and everyone else."

Bentley's thinner, nasal voice asked, "Frankly, why aren't _you two_ missing?"

"Your question is an insult to our honesty and integrity," muttered Winthrop.

Conner pushed the covers aside and pivoted on his rump, dropping his legs over the side of the bed. His ears perked, again hearing the creamy feminine voiced reply. "Excuse Winthrop – he's shy and I ask that you don't hold it against him. He and I went to a local pharmacy to pick up supplies. We began walking down the street and I was captivated by the modern technology. He was explaining the latest things that are considered household normality. What started as talking led to flirting. When we returned, everyone was missing but all of their equipment and clothes were in the hotel, untouched and unpacked. We spent twelve hours looking, waiting and attempting to find out a way to contact them… Winthrop felt you would have a better chance."

Sly sounded as though he was trying to contain his emotions. "Why didn't anyone just _call_?"

Quite suddenly, Winthrop's voice grew harsh in tone. "Ever heard of Echelon? The Vortex satellite? The software in your cellular phone known as Silkworth and Sire?"

Bentley cleared his throat. "You know more than you let on, Mister Weasel. Those things are not considered public knowledge."

Winthrop continued almost directly overtop of the tortoise's statement. "They probably found us by tracing Mrs. Cooper's cellular transmissions. That kind of technology has been around since the early nineties. If the Government wanted to engage Lockheed P415 and move in, they could. But what about someone who has the power to hide from the rest of the world? If this person is as real as you guys claim, he or she probably has the ability to hack into these networks, as well. That means they tracked down the team. _I_ think they were _abducted_. This is _serious_. I feel it in my gut – this is a bad situation."

"I have to consider Conner's safety, too," Sly snapped. He paused, sighed and said, "I appreciate you willing to come to me, Winthrop. It took courage and, most of all, honor. My son is most likely in just as much danger, here."

"Actually," said Bentley. "So long as you don't mention him over the phone nor bring him to the hot zone where the rest of your family has already been abducted… one of us can stay in Miami to make sure he stays safe."

Again, Sly groaned. "I need for you and Murray to come with me to Europe. I need you guys."

Winthrop interjected. "I'll stay here. If anything happens, I'll call you. I don't want to go back to Europe, either. I fear for _my_ safety. _I_ could have been abducted, too! For some reason, I feel safer in Miami – I'd rather stay here. No one was kidnapped from this area. People seem to think that whatever this threat is, it's coming from a local location… but I don't believe that. If that were true, you guys would be missing, not Carmelita, Carmen, Thomas and those two kids who volunteered to help us. It's more dangerous there, period."

"Calling me sounds like a bad idea, you said so yourself. Besides, I can't ask you to babysit," said Sly, quietly. His voice was hardly audible through the walls, making Conner have to strain in order to hear his father's words.

"I volunteer! We'll… stay local and continue the investigation in your absence. If we find anything, we'll call you… we should all install PhoneCrypt to our wireless devices. This sort of thing shouldn't have happened to begin with."

"I agree," replied Bentley, adding, "Miss Chintzy, before we go, I'll need to inoculate you with a vaccine so you don't contract all the modern strands of virus, bacteria, influenza, or anything else you missed over the last twenty-plus years."

"I'll go and talk to Conner," said Sly.

"Wait." The voice belonged to Winthrop. "If you wake him at this hour, it would be difficult to keep him here. He would be impossible to convince – he would undoubtedly run off after you like a tailing car with the headlights out. I know you want to talk to him but… call him from Europe. I'll make sure his cellphone gets the software installed."

"I… I suppose you're right," murmured Cooper. "He did run off on his sister and I definitely don't want him following me where I'm going. Okay." Then, redirecting his tone towards Bentley, Sly said, "Be quick about this shot for Karla. I want to be mobile as soon as possible." His voice lowered. "I don't want to waste any time… my family is more important than Karla catching cold."

Bentley took a moment, for some reason, before replying. Conner could only imagine that the turtle was giving his father some sort of glare, frown or other type of 'look'. Finally, the tortoise said, "She'll need this shot or she could die from something like the Brazilian Influenza from twenty-fifteen. Remember that debacle, a decade ago? Or the AH-4 Virus from that scare we had seven years ago… or even the N1H1 Swine Flu from back in O'Nine." A pause in the conversation took place then Bentley added, "I can have it synthesized from a replicator in an hour – all we need is a reliable connection to the Internet. I have an ISO image of the chemical composition stored on my shared network drive. Let's go…" Then, after a second later, "Miss Chintzy, please stay here. The less you're exposed to germs, the safer you'll be. Stock up on Vitamin C and other _natural_ methods used to ward off germs. Even once you're inoculated, you'll still wind up sick from a modern strain of the common cold."

"I… can hardly… wait." Karla trailed off while everyone gathered their belongings. After a moment of ambient noise, Conner could hear a group of footfalls heading down the hallway. It sounded like four people – most likely his father's team and Winthrop. The young Cooper flopped back into bed and sighed. Now, not only did his mother and sister disappear, his new team members were missing, too. He closed his paws, clinching the sheets for a moment then began a slow breathing technique to keep his composure.

Conner told himself that everything he'd heard was a dream. The longer he lay in bed, the easier it was to believe that he'd experienced a waking dream. In time his eyes shut and, re-newly calmed, the teenage raccoon-fox hybrid managed to slip back into a state of unconsciousness….

* * *

**A soft feminine singing** woke Conner. He sat up in bed, able to see more easily in the dim room. The blinds were drawn over the hotel window but because it was now morning, the room was cast in a shade of partially illuminated gray. The singing was tasteful and in perfect key. He blinked twice then, rather suddenly, recognized the voice belonging to the woman he'd heard the night before. That's when he came to the realization that it must not have been a dream. His jaw dropped open and his paws clinched into fists.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, kicking the sheets away from his body. "It _had_ to be a dream," he murmured, headed for the door. Conner grasped the knob and flung the door open. Clad it only his boxer shorts and with matted bed-head fur, the teenager marched up the hallway. He pushed a paw through his tousled short head-fur then reached for the door to his father's room and opened it. He stepped inside, stern look on his face, then froze when he saw the disarmingly attractive felox.

She sat on the edge of the bed, singing intermittently to an iPod. Dressed only in a silk negligee, her head lifted and she reached for the 'Y' split of the headphone cord. She gracefully closed her fingertips around the wiring and gave a gentle tug. Two ear-buds dropped into her lap and her eyebrows lifted in interest. Vibrant green eyes lifted to the sight of his face then lowered, raking over him. Slowly, her eyes raised again, drinking in every detail of his toned, athletic, undressed body. "Well _hello_."

Conner's eyes naively lowered to her full, well-endowed chest. He blinked twice then glanced at her silky thighs. Much like her eyes, his lifted again, slowly, starting at her arms and tracing the carnation colored coil of fur markings that stopped at her shoulders and disappeared beneath the skimpy nightgown.

"I'd say you're a bit on the young side," she began. "But my appearance is that of a fifteen year old – I can't judge, now can I?" She offered a flirty lick of her lips, followed by a coquettish smile that suggested she was rather comfortable with herself in this situation. The woman's iPod ear-buds offered a faint sound that emanated from her lap. She reached a paw out and patted the mattress in a suggestive way. "Come and sit by me; it's supposedly been a while since I've seen a practically naked man. Besides, I have to tell you about your father's whereabouts – don't worry, he's perfectly safe and will be rejoining us before you know it, sweetheart."

Conner's eyes lifted, lowered and lifted again, moving from the spot on the bed next to her, to her eyes to see if she looked trustworthy. Her emerald hues shined with mirth and an unspoken sort of sensuality. Finally, the naïve young man approached her. Charmed and disarmed, he settled down on the spot where she'd patted, so that he was besides her. Their hips touched. He felt her fluffy cat-like fox tail coil around him, along his backside. It lay overtop of his tail in a perpendicular manner. He folded his paws in his lap and looked down at the floor.

Karla placed a paw on his knee and turned her head so that her warm breath tickled his ear. "You must be Conner. I thought you would be younger – I didn't realize you were already a man. You turned out to be quite a mix between your parents. I never thought the heated union between a raccoon and fox would make for an attractive _male_ offspring. But I must admit, you're even more attractive than your sister. And don't get me wrong… she's quite a looker. But, my goodness, you're a lady-killer. So, to what do I owe the honor of being able to meet you practically in the nude, my dear?"

He blushed inwardly, keeping his face directed towards the ground. His eyes wondered to the left, looking over the woman's perfectly shaped… _everything_. "I heard your singing. I realized that everyone must have left in the middle of the night. When they came back with your inoculation shot, they were pretty darn quiet – I thought I'd hear'em… and when I didn't, I assumed that I dreamed _everything_. So, when I heard your singing this morning, I realized that everyone _did_ leave. And I was about to lose my temper because I'm too late, but… what's the point? It won't bring everyone back."

"That's very mature, maintaining your temper, Conner. I'm glad you were able to sit down and think about it without becoming angry. It's _nice_ to see a man who can keep a cool head." She sifted her fingers through the fur tuft atop of his knee. "As I'd said, I didn't realize you'd be a full grown adult – they spoke of you in a way that made me think you were closer to, say… ten or eleven. You're obviously a teenager, like myself, which, where I'm from, is considered the age of full maturity. So, I have to ask you – did they explain what's going on?" She appeared to be about his age in looks but she spoke with the grace and intellect of a middle-aged woman who was cultured and already lived her life to the fullest. It added to her other attractive qualities.

"They didn't give me all the details," he murmured. Conner cleared his throat and tried to appear more confident. "I was close to figuring it out for myself when I trailed them across the _globe_ to Miami. It's some sort of secret and they're pretty worried about things; I know that much. Whatever is going on, they feel like they're already in over their heads."

"Across the _globe_, did you say? That's quite impressive. There are some veteran law enforcement personnel who could go their entire career without being able to catch someone who fled their country. So long as the suspects keep below the radar, they could practically go undetected forever even if they joined the law enforcement in another nation. How did you manage to be so _clever_?"

He glanced down at the paw upon his knee. She appeared completely comfortable with the proximity and portrayed that it was simply natural and normal. He folded his hands in his lap and said, "I followed my instincts. I'm not cop material, even though mom said she was impressed that I found them without the help of a government spy satellite and trained detectives. To be honest, things fell into place with a little bit of luck."

"Luck, huh?" She smiled again, displaying her creamy white teeth. "It's adorable that you believe in luck. That sort of thing runs out – perhaps you're just naturally skilled, love." She reached for one of his paws and gently took it into her grip. Karla turned his paw over, displaying his palm upwards. She trailed a manicured fingertip over the lines and creases in the velvet padding of his palm then smiled. "Longevity, intelligence and good health – you have beautiful hands." She paused and offered him a saucy grin. "Sorry… you have very _manly_ hands, Conner. My apologies. Women find beauty in lots of things, including men. I know you boys prefer _dashing_, or _handsome_ or something a touch more… shall we say, macho… but the truth is, you have _very_ nice hands, love."

Karla lifted his paw to the side of her face and nuzzled the side of her muzzle against his palm. "Soft, too. Strong hands, with a soft underside… the touch of both a worker and a lover – what a balance. The callous fingers of a working man tells a woman that he'll make a good provider… the soft feel of a smooth palm says that he'll be a passionate lover. You have both. I bet your grip is firm and commanding, too. Very impressive, sweetheart."

In a soft voice, Conner murmured a simple, "Thanks."

She lowered his palm, placing it upon her knee. "I'm a pretty good judge of character, Conner. Something tells me, whether or not you may know this about yourself, that you probably know how to please a woman. I bet you're a good kisser, too." Then she quickly toned down the flirting by changing the subject somewhat. "Are you the 'team leader' with your father back in Europe? I mean, Winthrop is a great guy but he doesn't have the confidence or self-assurance necessary to be a leader. I've not met the other two – Dawn and Jing. In the chessboard of life, I'm more of a knight who aspires to be a Queen one day. But no matter _how many_ pieces you have… in a group of people someone is always the King, even if they're not a very good one at first. Are you the King, Conner?"

"I led a team of people to Miami. We dispersed and laid low once we arrived. Two of them were with mom – you probably met them. Javari was a wolverine and Sergei was a coyote with a thick Russian accent. Good people. I trust them."

"Sounds to me like we need your leadership while the rest of us are here." She placed her paw back upon his leg and traced her index finger over the top of his thigh to the hem of his boxers then back down towards his knee. "I feel much better, knowing there's a natural-born leader in the group. I'll explain to you why your parents were here and what they're looking for, but there's no use in going over all the details until everyone is awake to hear about it." She lowered her free paw into her lap and retrieved the iPod.

Karla drew her thumb across the front of it to bring it out of 'suspend' mode then glanced at the small clock on the screen. "Let's let them sleep for another hour or two – it's rather early. In fact, I'm sorry that I woke you." She lifted her eyes to the door and watched as the dead bolt slid shut then offered him another soothing smile. "I mean, we're alone together for the time being. We have a little privacy if you want to talk about anything in particular. From my personal experience, I know that men enjoy mature conversation with a woman when offered the chance to have a little personal time together. Anything on your mind?"

"Well, for starters, how about your name?"

She brought both of her paws to her chest, pressing in on the silk cloth to accentuate the sumptuous curvature of her bosom. "Dear me – I got right to business with you, didn't I? You'll have to help me relax else I'd just lose my mind, wouldn't I?" She reached for his face and leaned forward, kissing his left cheek than his right. "I'm Karla Chintzy. It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Conner Cooper."

She tilted her head expectantly. Conner lowered his eyes then lifted them again. The young Frenchman leaned forward and kissed the left side of her face then they both shifted their weight so he could kiss the right side of her face. "A pleasure – I understand you worked with my parents in the past." He paused to look her over again. "I'm not sure how long ago, you can't be much older than me… but they never really mentioned you until it was time for mom to head over to Europe and find you. Thee, ah, pleasure is likewise, Karla."

She blinked and tilted her head, gazing at him for a moment. Then, she leaned forward and brushed the side of her muzzle against his, nuzzling in close. He could feel her nose brush against his neck. She drew in a deep breath of his scent then, in a low voice, asked, "Are you wearing cologne with your undergarment, Conner?"

"Pardon? …Me? No, I don't spray 'fu-fu' on myself. I find that a bath works just fine."

Her ears perked up atop of her head. She drew back, again brushing the side of her face against his. "You smell like you're wearing a dusky hint of cologne. I was trying to see if I could figure out the scent… but you're saying you only go all natural?"

"Maybe a little bit of sweat from when I work out, but that's it."

The felox offered him an alluring grin. "Now _that_ is manly."

"Listen… dad and I found a place to move the group. A random attack happened the other morning… it's a good thing we hadn't moved yet, or else Winthrop would have never found his way back to us… but we _should_ move today. Just to be safe. When everyone wakes up, let's get them packed up – it should be our first order of business. We'll go and find something to eat then relocate and set up 'base camp,' in a sense."

"…Wow." Her grin broadened into a dazzling smile. "Like I thought… you really are the alpha dog, Conner. Okay, we'll move when everyone is up. That still gives us time to get to know one another a little better." She lifted a paw and patted the side of his face, cupping his cheek tenderly. "The girl in your room, Dawn… have you guys been seeing one another long – are you mates yet?"

The question caught him off guard. "Well, uh… we just met recently," he explained, lifting his paw from her thigh to use for speaking purposes. He waved his paws about in front of his face to better enunciate himself. "We've grown close but mating with her won't happen – at least not any time soon. I mean, you know… the whole… virginity thing being involved. So we have a healthy level of respect about it."

The felox nodded understandingly. With a demure-looking smile, Karla said, "Back in the days of the great Roman Empire, fathers took their sons down to the working girls to learn the ways of intimacy. That way, when it came time to marry, the newlywed husband would know exactly how to please his new wife. It was customary because it was a sign of disrespect to hurt your new wife on her wedding night. Not knowing how to properly perform for her wasn't an acceptable excuse. In the end, Italians developed a long-lasting reputation as romantic men who knew how to make a woman swoon. …Among other things."

"I, uhm… didn't know that." He folded his paws, placing them in his lap.

Karla lifted a paw, drawing a sparkling red fingernail over his nose gently. It trailed over the camber and down over his top lip. "You're a good boy, Conner. I hope that you save your virginity for Dawn. She obviously loves you – I could smell her scent all over your body." She offered a knowing smile then leaned up and whispered into his ear. "But if you ever need a few lessons on how to please a woman before you mate with her, I'll teach you all you need to know. When I'm done with you, you'll be her sexual god and she'll adore you forever for making her feel the most intense, intimate connection possible." She leaned back, winked and slid off the mattress. Karla walked to the bathroom, opened the door and looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't answer now. Just… think about it."

She offered a classy, feminine smile with a polite tilt of her head then she stepped into the bathroom. A second later, the silk negligee was tossed out, landing on the floor not far from him. He stood up and licked his lips with a hint of apprehension. However, she was rather enticing and some part of him wanted to take her up on her offer by walking right into the bathroom and joining her in the shower. He resisted.

The hiss of hot water made his ears perk. Conner picked up the silky nightgown. He carried it back to her bed. His ears laid back and his whiskers disappeared along the contour of his muzzle. The hybrid raccoon leaned in and sniffed at the cloth but he didn't detect the scent of anyone else. Not Winthrop, not his father – just her. With a light chuckle and headshake, he laid the small piece of fabric out on the mattress and turned about. In only a moment or two, hot steam billowed through the doorway. He picked up her iPod from the floor at the foot of the bed and placed it atop of her nightgown.

Conner approached the bathroom door, able to see a blurry reflection of her nude outline in the steam-enshrouded mirror. "A shower sounds like a good idea. Think I'll take one, too." He pulled the door shut out of respect then blinked at the deadbolt on her room door. He slid the bar out of its place, curious as to how it was locked then left her room. He walked down the hall, still clad in only his boxer shorts then slipped back into his room. He moved over to the second bed, next to his and approached Dawn.

She slept on her back, the blanket drawn up to half-cover her face. He eased back the lip of the blanket and placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. "I'm going to take a shower. We'll get breakfast when you get up." He picked up the duffle bag between their beds, fished out clean clothes and headed into the bathroom.

The layout of his hotel room was exact opposite of Karla's room, so that the bathrooms were back to back. He could hear humming through the walls and through the ventilation grille that covered the exhaust fan built into the ceiling. He placed a finger against the flat black touch screen panel set into the tiled wall. It illuminated with all the controls. He traced his finger over the panel, activating the hot water. Steam poured out through a spout in the ceiling. The panel read, '_Water temperature_' displaying Fahrenheit and Celsius, as well as the words, '_fur management – steam treatment active_' as a digital explanation for the amount of steam that billowed out of the glass enclosure that surrounded him.

* * *

**The panda's eyes slowly moved over **Karla's fully-nude body, studying every last detail in the short moment they stood before one another. Jing King reached her fist into a closet adjacent to the bathroom, pulled out a designer business outfit left in there by Carmelita Cooper then shoved it forward in Karla's face. "Wear this, then. We have little time, so hurry."

The felox quirked a brow at the larger woman who seemed completely comfortable with their size difference. The oriental woman folded her arms while waiting. "I've instructed Conner to protect Winthrop and Dawn – he's our last line of difference. Are you able to handle a weapon, woman?"

Karla's eyebrows furrowed adorably. "A _weapon_? Sweetheart, I _am_ a weapon." She pulled the trousers on then fed her tail through the connector cut in the back. She buttoned the back of the waistline between the two rear belt loops then pulled a sports bra over her head, followed by a blouse. "I'm surprised, most females don't care to walk in on me in the shower because they get jealous…" She changed the topic abruptly. "Astonishingly, Senior Inspector Carmelita Cooper not only has a very nice selection of business suits, they fit me surprisingly well…"

"You speak too much, your showers last too long. Dress more quickly – you're covering your body, not going on a date." Jing King withdrew a revolver and handed it to Karla. "Take this and meet me downstairs as soon as you've covered the bare necessities." She left Karla's room.

Chintzy looked at the weapon then stuffed it down the back of her pants and continued to dress. "Horrible pun," she murmured, fixing her hair. She stepped in front of the mirror and began to adjust the lay of her lavish blonde locks. "Curls or straight, today? Hmm…"

A moment later, Jing King stopped in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. She watched as one of the mercenary-looking men slew the concierge. The panda grimaced at their tacky display of a random public execution. She reached over her shoulder and withdrew a shotgun from the harness, holding the pump action European police issue R&J-12 assault shotgun by its barrel. She jerked her wrist up, causing the shotgun to pump itself then tucked the end beneath her other arm, rounded the corner and pulled the trigger.

A white phosphorous shell burst from the barrel with a bright geyser of flame. The buckshot melted before it could reach the target but the jet of flame engulfed him, instead. She approached the first aggressor, who now panicked from the burning body armor and writhed from the intense heat. While distracted by his own screams of agony, she drew back the butt stock and struck him with all of her might directly in the face. The strike pushed his nose inward, delivering a lethal blow. He dropped to the ground, flames consuming him.

To Jing's surprise, a flood of armed men entered the lobby from four directions. The lead soldier lifted a paw in the air. "Wait, it's a woman. Maybe we can use her to our advantage. Disarm her – if she resists, kill her and we'll find another."

Three men approached Jing from multiple directions, guns trained on her. Another few men near the door and over by the wall aimed their weapons at her. The panda grumbled then tossed the shotgun to one of the men nearby her. "It would be unwise not to admit defeat for the time being." She glanced at the hallway from where she'd come, waiting to see if the other woman, Karla Chintzy, would appear in the stairway. For the moment, she was glad the other female didn't rush down with her, a moment prior… else they'd both be captured.

However, looking around herself, Jing couldn't quite see any way out of this situation. Everyone was outnumbered and outgunned. The three men began to pat down the panda. One of the men turned back to his commander and said, "She has a lot of explosive devices, a flair gun and some light gray shotgun cartridges. They might be the flaming ones like she just used on Johan."

The commander nodded. "Make sure she's the only one. Bring anyone else to me. Don't kill them unless they resist. I want answers – one of these people know what the hell is going on, here."

Of the three men surrounding Jing, one withdrew a handgun and pointed the barrel in the panda's face. The other two broke away and headed for the hallway. They kicked open a few random hotel doors then moved towards the stairwell. Scouting the other side with a glance, they gestured to one another in silence and disappeared through the doorway one after the other. Jing waited to hear their footfalls on the steps but there was no such sound to follow. She quirked a brow and craned her neck, not able to figure out why the men didn't go upstairs right away.

The commander also took notice and said, "What are you two doing? Go upstairs and find anyone else in the building." No reply. "Michael? Strauss?" No reply. He lifted a paw and gestured for two more men to rush the stairs that were adjacent to the elevator. Two men broke away from the large group of attackers. Their militant gear clattered about accentuating their footfalls as they approached the hallway together. They left the lobby and headed through the doorway into the staircase. Like the first two men, the sound of their boots ceased abruptly.

Someone near the front door shouted, "What the hell?" He dove into the lobby through the glass entrance adjacent to the revolving door. Seconds later, four bodies slammed into the ground just outside. The commander backtracked towards the front entrance. He opened the door and glanced outside. He blinked in confusion.

"What is going on," asked the group leader. Michael, Strauss, and the second two men were lying on the concrete, beneath the awning. All four of them were dead, having sustained injuries from what looked like a fatal fall. He pointed at the group of men closest to him then motioned towards the stairs. "You four, rush the stairwell – _go_."

Two groups of two broke away from the main coterie and rushed towards the stairs. They surrounded the doorway together. Quite suddenly all four of them went flying backwards. One of the men flew directly across the hall, passing through the plaster bulkhead and into one of the first floor hotel rooms. The other three went flying into the lobby at an incredibly high rate of speed.

Seconds later, an opulent woman dressed to the nines in a designer business suit stepped from the stairs. Her hair was wavy and flowed behind her. Her shoes clip-clopped on the floor with each confident step. Everyone froze, including Jing who had to admit that the woman dressed up rather nicely.

One of the gunmen rushed Karla, raised his assault rifle and opened fire. Karla's paw lifted then she pushed her palm outward. The rounds struck an invisible telekinetic barrier and dropped to the ground. The forceful wave continued forward, striking the gunner next and throwing him to the floor. His gun skittered across the tiled deck, clattering towards the commander's feet.

Karla, who wore matching sunshades, drew them from her dazzling green eyes and directed her attention towards the leader with an intense, beautiful smile. "Mmm, you must be the alpha dog… I just love a man who is in charge." Her voice was sweet like honey and melodic as can be.

Two more men came away from the east and west entrance to the lobby. They rushed her in flanking positions. Karla eased the dark sunshades back up along her snout, using a manicured fingertip to push against the bridge of the glasses. In unison, both men went flying away from her. They struck the ceiling, knocking light fixtures from their mountings then dropped to the floor unceremoniously.

She sashayed her hips with every step, approaching the commander. He barked the command for everyone in the room to open fire. Jing immediately ducked down behind the receptionist counter. A thunderous cacophony of noise filled the hotel lobby.

A slight sneer touched Chintzy's maw. She waved her paws outwards. The carnation brandings on her palms glowed. Every bullet fired was deflected by a faintly translucent aura. The telekinetic wave moved outward, away from her body. It crushed the ammunition rounds into dust then struck the men and their weapons. With the exception of the leader, all the soldiers in attendance were thrown clear through the walls. The framing became exposed, as well as rebar from several of the concrete pillars just beneath the original bulkhead surface. A chandelier, with its support anchor broken, fell from the ceiling with a deafening crash.

"Don't blink," she murmured to the man whose paws were now over his ears. It confused him and, despite her wording, he blinked. In the split second it took for his eyes to flutter shut, Karla teleported to within a meter of distance to him. She reached for his throat and pushed him up against the surface between the revolving door and the now shattered glass entrance. "I told you not to blink, sweetheart. So, you're the man in command, hmm? I _love_ a man in command. What is it you that you do, baby?"

"Wh-who are you? I'm a mercenary leader hired by this guy in Tampa. He said his boss will pay me to make sure that everyone in this hotel is accounted for. Including some raccoon kid who broke into the History Museum the other day. They said he's a witness."

"Really," she murmured, whispering her warm breath against his ear. "Where can I find your boss in Tampa? He sounds like a _very_ interesting person."

"His name is Jasper Cunningham, but I don't know anything about the people he works for. All I know is that they're some powerful people out at sea who make your life miserable if you know too much."

"You've been very useful, love. I'll let you go – but first… I need an address for my GPS."

The man blinked again, cocking his head. "What's a GPS?"

A pouty frown marred her muzzle. "How do you connect your turn-by-turn navigation in your car?"

Again, he blinked. "Satellite, lady. It's not a GPS, at least not in THIS country; they call it G-TAP. Global Tracking and Positioning Array. At least as long as I've…"

Karla's free paw lifted, clamping the canine's muzzle tightly. "Shh, hon. Relax, sweetheart – just take a moment to calm down." She released his maw and held her left paw outward, palm up. "See my hand, love?" She watched as his eyes shifted to her empty hand.

Jing's voice cried out from behind. "Look out!"

A combat knife appeared in Chintzy's left palm. She closed her fingers around it then turned away from the commander, burying the serrated blade into a man that was sneaking up behind her with a paw above his head. His empty fist clinched tight, bringing his arm down against her shoulder in confusion. Robbed of the combat knife previously in his palm, his mind failed to comprehend the fact that she'd teleported his weapon from his grip and into her own hand. He now found it buried in his kidney. The man staggered backwards, falling upon his right side, the knife jutting up in the air from just above his left hip.

Karla turned back to the leader who weaseled away and broke into a sprint. The felox rolled her eyes and held her arms outstretched. "Get ready, Miss King." She paused to focus. The canine, in full sprint, disappeared only to reappear less than two feet from the counter by Jing. He slammed into the desk and flipped over it. Jing King knelt down, placing her knee against his throat and her flair pistol against his pelvis.

The oriental panda offered a faint smile. In a calm voice, she said, "I recommend that you remain still."

Chintzy gritted her teeth, seeing a group of men approach from down the street. "Miss King, if you would, I require a few of your shotgun cartridges, please."

King reached into her bag and tossed a handful of the gray shells towards Karla. They never hit the ground. Instead, the felox teleported the small gray objects into her palm. She stepped through the broken glass door and lobbed all of them, underhanded, towards the incoming men.

While floating through the air, Karla used her powerful mastery of telekinesis to force them forward, facing in the correct direction. A following kinetic wave struck the rounds against the metal ends, igniting them. To Karla's mild amusement, the white phosphorous rounds exploded, instead of firing buckshot the way she expected. A line of shells, floating through the street, erupted in flamethrower fashion, wiping out the line of incoming mercenaries.

She tilted her head, watching as the ball of fire dissolved. "That was unexpected." The men dropped to the street, rolling around in puddles in an attempt to put out the flames on their clothes. From where she stood, Karla could easily tell that their burns were severe enough to be considered eventually lethal. She turned back to the hotel and stepped in through the shattered glass door. 'They won't be a threat," she murmured.

She sauntered across the lobby, her shiny black shoes created a crunching sound on the broken shards of glass from the windows and chandelier. Her fluffy tail swayed from left to right with the rhythm of her hips. Karla stood besides the kneeling Jing King and the man on the floor. The felox lifted her foot and placed her heel against his throat. "Let's see… jugular…" She moved her heel, slowly, along his neck. "No, you'd just writhe around while you bleed out…" She paused, the heel against another part of his neck. "Ahh, the carotid artery – straight from the aorta, your neck would spray blood straight into the air. You'd be dead very quickly, making it more gory, yet… more humane. Are you going to give me my address now, or… as you said of Miss King, earlier… do we have to 'find another', darling?"

"Sixty-two sixty-f-f-four Town Centre avenue on…" he paused and asked, "Aren't you going to write this down, lady?"

"Continue," she murmured.

"It's in what's left of the mall, in Riverview."

Karla's brows lifted. She added uncomfortable pressure against his throat. "A _shopping mall_? Be serious with me, love. I'm not the kind of woman to play games, unless, of course, I'm the one playing them."

"I swear!" he shouted, unable to reach for his neck from the way King had him pinned. With her knee against his collarbone and Karla's heel against his throat, he could only squirm. "The whole suburb around Tampa was leveled in the wildfires, and with those two damn hurricanes, FEMA can't even start on every part of the state at one time – these guys have been using the mall as their temporary headquarters. You can't miss it; the whole place looks like ground zero after a nuclear blast or something! Just go there and you'll see! The only damn place, outside of the city, that is still standing is MacDill Air Force Base, and that place is locked down and quarantined. Just… go and see!"

She leaned over, paws on her hips. "So just across the bay from the military is a group of terrorists? I don't believe you, I just don't, and I'm sorry dear."

"Wait! I'll personally show you!"

Karla stepped back and clapped her paws together. "Excellent! That's the spirit, love! And if you're lying, I'll throw you through a wall and drop a piano on you." She paused for effect then added, "…Twice."

"You'll do what…?" The man blinked, looking over at Jing uncomprehendingly. His eyes cut back to Karla, confusion shining in them. Quite suddenly, his body disappeared from beneath King. She blinked, looking over at Karla. Chintzy pivoted on her heel and faced towards the center of the room. The man reappeared directly above the chandelier and began to fall.

The felox lifted her paws outwards as though she was holding an invisible baseball bat. She calmly moved her arms in a follow-through swing and, despite holding no bat or other object in her hands, his body suddenly changed direction away from the chandelier. He hit the far wall and dropped to the ground with a long, drawn out groan. "Line drive to centerfield," she murmured. "That's good for at least a double." She then approached the man, lying on his side. "Listen to me, little boy. If you do not want me to perform that very same trick on you… using a piano as the grand finale. If you keep up your end of the bargain, I'll simply drop you off across town and leave you alone."

In a breathy groan, he murmured the word, "Deal."

Again, she clapped her paws with a brilliant smile. "Then it's settled! Wonderful, we're glad to have your help – what shall we call you?"

He wheezed out the words, "My name is Christopher Gra—"

She waved her paw in a dismissing fashion. "No, no… I don't care about your name, peon. Hmm, I think I shall call you, '_Brutus_'." She reached for his collar and straightened it while he lay on the floor. "Yes, Brutus. That's your name for the time being. Know you of Brutus? He helped the people by betraying Caesar. Well, if this fellow, Jasper Cunningham is Caesar, then you're about to betray him. No worries, he'll be dead and you won't be to blame. Finally, we go after Caesar's power, out at sea. And you? You, my dear Brutus, disappear from my sight. Will you behave or should I 'Find someone else' as you so eloquently put it in regards to Miss King's life, earlier?"

"I'll help you!" he cried out. "You swear you won't kill me if…"

Karla knelt down and placed a fingertip against his lips. "Shh, be calm, pudding. I won't hurt you, love dumpling… you'll be my little schnook'ums so long as you behave, buttercup." She reached for his ear and twisted it in her grip. In a stern, calm voice, she told him, "Now get on your feet, _soldier_." Karla then glanced back at Jing. "Sorry I took so long to get downstairs. Let's go see if Dawn and the boys are awake – we have a long trip down I-4 west."

King tilted her head. "Can't you just …teleport us there?"

She shook her head with a frown. "No, I'm afraid I don't have that ability – it's beyond me to move a group of people for more than a very small distance, less than a hundred yards if I meditate. It's very exhausting." She glanced back at 'Brutus' and added, "But a _piano_ is surprisingly easy, as they're inanimate objects!"

* * *

**Riverview, Floridia was in ruin**. To the team, it had the appearance of a post apocalyptic scene straight out of a movie that takes place shortly after a nuclear war. Ravaged by forest fires, wind and hard rain, the area looked as though it was firebombed repeatedly then doused in a million gallons of water. The puddles that lined the streets were full of plaster ashes from buildings that were toppled and burned.

The recently acquired navigation unit exclaimed, "Arriving at destination!" What once used to be a megaplex mall, the ruins now sat in disarray. Winthrop put the rented hover-car into park. It lowered to the ground gently. He stepped out from behind the wheel, Karla climbed out from the passenger seat. Conner, Jing, Dawn and Christopher 'Brutus' Grapping remained in the back seats.

Weasel and Chintzy approached a fallen billboard sign with the name of the mega mall written underneath. Karla waved a hand throwing the sign over onto its back, cracking the billboard down the center. The words, "WINTHROP TOWN CENTRE" graced the ruined sign.

Karla smiled. "They were expecting you, dear." She smiled at the weasel and added, "I didn't know you owned a mall… Your superintendant is going to be pissed, muffin." She reached out and patted his cheek. "Well, honey… it appears we're in the right place. I'll get the kids out of the car, you wait here." She sauntered away.

"Karla!" Winthrop's voice caught the attention of everyone in the car just in time for everyone to scramble. Up on the top of the rubble pile of the mega mall, gunshots began ringing out in rapid succession.

One of the first rounds pierced the front of the car, striking the canine man, next to Conner, directly in his chest. The raccoon turned to grab him only to realize that he'd sustained a fatal shot. "Stay down," he hissed at Dawn, pulling his cane off the floor. The boy pushed the back door open and bailed out of the car, climbing behind it. Dawn did the same from the passenger side, grumbling about the inability to crawl beneath. The car sat on its belly, steam emanated from the hover pads.

Up front somewhere, Jing King shouted, "There's way too many of them; we must fall back – this was a bad idea." She fired off a round from her shotgun and muttered, "We should have done reconnaissance, first."

A group of men flanked the team, approaching the young teens behind the car. Conner looked up to Karla, who was busy fighting a large group of burley looking mercenaries. He cut his gaze back to the approaching men and stood up, twirling the cane to ready himself. His eyes flitted over their gear, then their uniforms and finally back to Dawn. With a regretful sounding sigh, he said, "These men appear to be AWOL soldiers. They're trained fighters… this isn't going to be good."

The closest man drew an assault rifle; his fellow soldiers drew theirs as well. Conner glanced from left to right then lanced out with his cane, snagging the barrel with the hooked end. He gritted his teeth, twisting it away from the man. It flew from his hands and Dawn caught it.

Conner glanced over his shoulder at her. "I'll hold them off – lay down covering fire and _RUN_!"

She mashed down on the trigger, firing in the direction of the closest men. Several of them ducked, taking evasive action. Dawn broke into a sprint, firing sporadically over her shoulder, running as she was ordered.

The first man drew his service pistol and fired, catching Conner in the shoulder. His paw locked up, clinching the cane at the end, down by the hook, in mid twirl. He drew his free paw back and struck the man in the muzzle with all of his might.

"Conner!" Someone shouted his name in the distance; it sounded like Jing King. Quite suddenly the man who'd shot him was face to face with the teen. His eyes dropped, looking down just in time to see that the man's pistol was on the ground. His eyes lifted, seeing that the man was now holding the other end of the staff, as if trying to wrestle it from the boy.

Young Cooper jerked his head forward, catching his attacker in the face with his forehead. The man groaned but shifted his body weight hard… He forced the end of the staff upwards, through Conner's torso. A chilling sense of cold stung against his bottom rib – the boy's eyes widened and his muzzle parted to form an 'O'. The cold metal inside his body, continued straight through, reemerging from his lower back. His right paw, just beneath the hook, gripped tightly and his body began to shake uncontrollably.

A paw came to his shoulder, shoving him backwards. The fourteen year old boy toppled over onto his side, looking straight ahead at a pair of combat boots. Stenciled on the black rubber heel in rather small print was, 'J. Cunningham' in white block lettering.

His paw entered Conner's field of view, picking up the service pistol. Gunshots rang out, but they were softer in volume than the boy had expected. The gunshots began to fade further into the distance and breathing became difficult. A cool January rain began, pelting him on the face. Raindrops began to drip from his nose and whiskers but he didn't even flinch. His eyes, half open, stared into infinity, as all became dark…

The shouting of his friends washed away, going from distant incoherent babble to absolute silence. His reeling mind comforted itself by depicting a glowing white light, filled with warmth. He felt compelled to reach for it… After that… everything felt better – the pain went away. His lungs no longer burned for air… his mind relaxed… he felt welcome… oddly, he felt… _home_.

* * *

A/N: _AW SNAP… is this the END for our HERO? I told you I would never kill a Canon character that belongs to the franchise owner, but… Conner is mine… what have I DONE? _

_I guess we'll find out after the cliff hanger. P-sout!_

_There are all sorts of alternative directions in this story. I wasn't sure how I wanted to roll with it until a few minutes ago (right before posting, lol.) There's even a version where Karla manages to seduce Conner, and I wrote the whole lewd section out before cutting it. Yeah, I saved it - I save all my throw-away stuff into a seperate file I call "DoP Footnotes and Extras", lol. Dirty, dirty stuff. xD_

_Now what? What's going to happen to our heroes? Did Dawn get all the way away? What of Karla? Well, you'll find out in the next chapter, so... you'll just have to wait. You think the cliffhanger is a mindtwister, wait until you see how I start the next chapter! Talk about twisted, this is going to be FUN to write! :D_

_And yes, you did read right, a moment ago... I actually did write out an alternative version where Karla successfully seduces Conner and they get it on and it's friggin' lewd. But I cut it. Yeah, I saved it. I'm dirty like that, lmao. But I decided to go a different way, lmao. _


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I enjoyed this chapter. You know why? _Randomness. New perspective. I'm going out of the box, here. __Fresh canvas. People always tell me I start a story rather strong then get 'tired' around the center of it… then I come back and finish strong. Well… I'm restarting fresh in the middle so there's NO TIRED section of the story. Before you get all excited or nervous and think I've done some dastardly deed, please finish this chapter all the way through BEFORE you get upset or riled up. Thanks for reading!_

_:D

* * *

_

Chapter -18-

**Penelope Wiseturtle adjusted her wedding band** with a forlorn sigh. Her eyes burned metaphorical holes in the epitaph engraved into Bentley's gravestone. She tightened her jaw, narrowed her eyes and began walking along the line of stones. Marked in order, Bentley was on the far left end. Next was Murray, followed by Sly and his wife, Carmelita Cooper. Next was Carmen San Diego Cooper – Penelope's muzzle twitched. She _wanted_ to smile; that name _always_ brought a smile to her in the past. Following that, there was a marker for Javari Ahma, Sergei Gurlukovich, and finally one more marker at the end.

Penelope lifted her head to the burley man standing at the marker on the far right. Her eyes slid to the marking on the headstone, which read, "Jing King". Beneath, her name and epitaph were written in Chinese lettering. She licked her lips in apprehension. Penelope disliked sulking about her dead husband in front of a man who lost his only daughter. She couldn't even imagine the sorrow he bottled up in his heart. "Are you ready to go, Mister King?"

"Even after three years, the burden of this loss…"

The petite mouse lifted her paw, standing on her tiptoes, and placed a finger against the man's muzzle. "Shh, Mister King, let me take you back to my place and you can have a drink and some lunch before your flight."

He flinched. He didn't shy away from her touch, but twitched in response to forcing back the pain in his chest. "That's very kind of you. You offer every year and, every year… I decline politely. However, I feel obligated to accept your offer of kindness this time, Penelope."

"It would be my pleasure." She paused, glanced back at the grave marker then swallowed. Her eyes lifted then lowered again. "Not to be rude but… Can I ask you about what the lettering says on her marker?"

"Penelope, it's only an empty grave – it's a symbol and we are the only ones who give it any meaning yet, in the end, it's meaningless. While it does have meaning to me, you're in no way being rude, and to answer your question… It says that her death was confirmed on Chinese New Year, February Seventeenth of twenty twenty-six. But her spirit is _timeless_ and will never be forgotten."

She offered him a subtle, sullen smile. "That's sweet. Was it really Chinese New Year when they found her identification in Tampa?"

"Indeed, it was. Her identification card had _her_ blood upon it; although it gives me comfort to know that it was _only_ found on the card and not the rest of the area. Her slaying was most likely not brutal or beyond reason. Her identification was all that the state workers recovered from the site where Conner's body was discovered a month prior. I often wish that he would wake up so I could know what happened."

"He's my godson. He's all I have left. I wish he'd wake up, too… but it's been three years. When he turns eighteen, this summer, he'll no longer be a minor… and at that point, I fear that the French Government will take him off life support. With such minimal brain activity, they would consider him a brain-dead _legal adult_ and pull the plug."

"Pardon me if _I_ seem rude," said Panda King, now turning the conversation around. "But I cannot fathom why they haven't done so already. Conner's body should be put to rest so that he can be with his family." Lightning. A deep roll of thunder punctuated the brilliant flash in the distance. Panda sighed. "They mentioned an afternoon storm - it is coming in from the east. Let's get indoors before the rain begins."

"Ironic how rain and graveyards go hand-in-hand together." She sighed and shook her head. The two began walking towards her sedan in the cemetery parking lot. "As a minor, and without the consent of the parents – whose bodies were never recovered – the French Government cannot pull the plug on a minor, as they do not have legal custody of his body. So, for now, they foot the bill until either his parents show up and take over… or until he turns eighteen. It's like a death sentence – a ticking time bomb… he only has a few more months to live."

"Penelope…" Panda shook his head and placed a large paw against her small back. "He's not lived in three years. His wounds have healed, his body has gone through puberty, but… Conner Cooper has been dead to this world for a very long time. Drawing it out seems selfish – he should be allowed to join his family. Keeping his body alive is unfair – it's only my opinion; don't mind me. Thank you for showing up, here, today. I didn't know you remembered Jing's birth date."

Penelope slipped a lithe arm around his large torso, looking down at the ground. "I do. She's thirty-nine today." Another flash of lighting arced through the sky, followed by a second arc that forked in several directions. A roll of thunder was punctuated by yet another brilliant display of lighting, with a simultaneous arc behind them. "We're in for quite a storm."

"Look." He drew Penelope's attention towards downtown Paris. A magnificent bolt of energy stretched from the heavens like the finger of God, reaching down into the city. It shined brightly and hung in the sky for what seemed like several seconds before fading away. "Impressive."

"I wonder what it struck to make it stay in the sky for so long, like that."

"You're the scientist." He afforded her with a wan smile then took her paw into his, gently. "Let us head back to your home before the rain begins."

Together, they walked through the grass to the parking lot. Penelope double-pressed the remote button on her key. The car started and lifted from the ground, supported by the hover pads beneath it. It hummed softly, illuminating the street below the chassis. She opened the driver side door and slid into the car. Panda moved into the passenger seat, which was all the way back on the seat track, and partially reclined to allow for his hulking frame.

She backed out of the spot and turned the car about, just in time to see another lightning bolt strike in Paris, hanging in the air for several seconds before disappearing. "That's odd… if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was in just around the exact same place, twice in a row. Must be a really high lightning rod, that's about the only time those things will strike the exact same place. I wonder what it's hitting… probably one of the skyscrapers or something."

King brought a paw to his jaw in thought. "If memory serves me, there are only two tall buildings in that area of the city… the Triumph Business building and the hospital."

She nodded in agreement, putting the vehicle into drive. "There would have to be a great deal of negative energy on the ground – it came from the top of a cumulonimbus cloud – it's a positive lightning bolt, both times… very rare. They have about ten times the amount of current, so whatever it struck must have had a great deal of negative energy on the other end."

"I don't know a great deal about lightning. I cannot think of anything negative on the ground in that area, however."

"No, negative _energy_. There's positive energy and negative energy. Neutrons, positrons, electrons – think of it like a magnet. Some is North polarity, some is South polarity. Lightning typically needs to start in the sky from negative energy, and connects to the ground where there is positive energy. On rare occasion, it starts very high up, as positively charged energy. It's brighter and lasts longer and travels from the stratosphere to the ground because it's so much stronger than typical lightning. It's also rare and rather beautiful to see."

"What would have made it strike in the city?"

"Perhaps it's a sign from the people we loved and knew… they somehow know we're at their plot, looking at their graves… and they wanted to let us know that they see us, or something."

"I'm not selfish or egotistical enough to think that, Penelope. That sort of thing doesn't happen often, and thousands upon thousands of people visit graveyards all over the world every single day."

She frowned and nodded. "You're right. That was completely unfounded and unscientific of me to suggest. I suppose I'm ready to believe anything so long as it gives me a small link to our lost loved ones. Three years and it's still so… raw and fresh."

"Indeed, we understand one another's pain." The rain began. Panda lowered his eyes to the floor mats beneath his shoes. "I fear my flight to China will be delayed." The rain came down in a torrential downpour striking the windshield with such force that normal conversation became inaudible. King raised his baritone voice. "Possibly for quite some time at this rate."

"Have mercy," murmured Penelope, her words unheard by the sound of the rain. It was so hard, heavy and loud that her wipers, on their fastest setting, did nothing for the visibility. She touched a button on the dashboard and a visual display was projected onto the windshield. She began to navigate, slowly, onto the road. "At this rate," she said, raising her voice loud enough for him to hear her. "We'll have to drive rather slowly… it could be some time before we get back to the house. Let's just take it slow for the time being, yes?"

* * *

_One week later…_

The woman with the clipboard shook her head, flipping the chart page and measuring today's information with that of a page from last month. An attractive mink, her eyes were colorful but half shut from working the graveyard shift. She lifted her left wrist and glanced at the time… seven in the morning. She knelt down in front of the silent bed and used a pen from her pocket to write a note on the chart. '_Patient K-three-five-S-seven shows abnormal brain activity. Please recommend for study. Patient admitted January of 2026, with minimal brain activity. Unsure as to when brain activity returned._'

She glanced at her watch again, walked out of the room and to the nurse station and placed her clipboard on the table next to the morning shift worker. "K35S7 is showing brain activity, Susan."

"Karen, that's not possible. He's been a deadhead since they found him."

"Wasn't he the one who needed the crash cart last week, when the power went out and the backup generator went out?"

Susan shook her head in a nonchalant manner. "It's the other way around – you've had a long night. No, what happened was… the power went out and the next day, Doctor Jennifer Denials came to do her rounds… and realized that he was on life support… but that he was still breathing after having lost power the day prior. They think his body may be stable, now. But _brain activity_ doesn't just come back, like that. That poor boy only has until the government decides he's close enough to eighteen to pull the plug. It's impossible to say his true age, but he does look young… Don't worry about him, Karen."

"Sorry," she said with a tired smile. "I'm new here and everything, I had no idea about his history."

The two bid their goodbyes to one another then the mink removed her white lab coat and placed it on a hanger in a closet nearby. "Take care, see you soon."

The other woman waved. "See you day after tomorrow."

Down the hall, the room with the lights out was beginning to brighten from the daylight filtering in through the blinds. A patch of golden sunlight crept across the pillow, coming to rest on the face of a seventeen-year-old raccoon nose. The warmth settled into the gray fur, warming it. After a moment or so, the coal-black nose flickered in irritation.

The raccoon's eyes fluttered. His eyebrows twitched and his face contorted, scrunching up from the beam of light directly on his face. The blanket wrinkled where his paw moved to scratch an itchy spot on his leg only to find a foreign object there, irritating the fur and flesh. His Adam's apple shifted, looking much like a lump moving across his throat. A low groan followed by a grunt, he tried to rub at the itchy spot on his leg without a satisfactory result.

The sun's warmth, concentrated on his face, grew further irritating. He began to roll over, only to feel something pulling at his neck, his chest and his groin. He shifted his weight, unable to grow comfortable as consciousness began to filter back into his sore body. His back hurt and his skin felt dry, as if the flesh was irritated. He shifted again but felt another uncomfortable tugging sensation against his groin. A soft electronic chirp pulsed slowly in the background, somewhere off in the distance.

His paw shifted from his thigh to his penis, where he found a catheter. His fingers gently closed around the tube, which was slippery with lubrication. Slowly, he began to pull it free but, surprisingly, it didn't hurt the way he thought it would. A wince of anticipation… however, the pain never happened. The catheter disconnected and he released it. Next, his paw began to slide up along his thigh again until he found a suction cup attached to his leg. A small patch of fur was shaven to allow for better suction against his skin.

He closed his fingers around the wire attached to the back of the rubber piece… and he tugged on it. A muffled 'pop' sound caused his left ear to twitch. He reached for another itchy spot on his chest but it didn't come off quite so easily. The raccoon shifted again, able to sit up now. His other paw came up to his face, rubbing at his eyes but his arm felt noticeably sore when he moved it. A rhythmic chirp in the background began to quicken in pace.

He turned his head to the side, trailing the wire that appeared from under his blanket and connected to the heart monitor. A paw eased out from beneath his blanket, reaching for the backside of the small monitor on a wheel cart. He pulled it close to him, reached behind the unit and located the power plug. He jerked it from left to right until it came free of the unit. The monitor went to battery backup mode, causing the raccoon to grumble.

He turned the unit around, squinted at the backside of it then flipped the switch. The rhythmic chirping ended abruptly. His paw disappeared beneath the blanket followed by another muffled 'pop' of a suction cup. He pushed the blanket away and sat the rest of the way up in a thin gurney. His fingers slid down over his torso, feeling for a wound but found nothing. His brows furrowed. The raccoon's paw disappeared beneath the gurney and he explored his torso but was unable to find a wound.

A white telephone sat on a shelf near his bed. He reached for it and dialed his mother's cell phone number. After one ring, a tone played, followed by a recorded message, saying, "_We're sorry but the number you've dialed is not in service._" He tried dialing it again with the same result. Next, he tried his father's cell number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. The recorded message belonged to a woman, calling herself Yolanda. Confusion marred his facial features. Next, he tried his sister's cell phone number with no luck.

He opened the drawer to the nightstand beneath the phone. Inside was a bible. He flipped open the cover. The address was for Paris, France. His eyes widened. "How the hell did I get back in Paris?" His voice was scratchy and somewhat deeper than he remembered. The raccoon crawled down to the end of the bed and took the chart off the front. It read, "Patient ID: K35S7, admitted Friday, January 23rd 2026." He attempted to ascertain the date by reading the handwritten scrawl on the latest chart but it was illegible.

He slid out of bed and shuttered from the feel of the cold tile floor on his bare hind-paws. Another wince. "Chri'sake," he murmured, again astonished by the tone of his voice. First thing first, he made his way over to a door in the corner of the room. The bathroom was sparkling clean as though it'd not been used in ages. After a slow, almost apprehensive approach to the mirror above the sink, his worst fears were confirmed.

Conner Cooper stared back at someone far older than he'd ever seen before. His eyes widened and his muzzle parted. "Sweet freakin' Jesus, how long was I out?" Again, his deeper voice unnerved him. His back ached, his arms were sore and his legs felt tired from just walking across the room. He blinked in stark realization and a gasp caught at the back of his throat. Conner left the bathroom and searched his hospital room. "Crap, where's dad's cane?" He grew immediately frantic. The cold floor and aching body was forgotten for the moment.

He drew in a deep breath and calmed himself. "Okay, it's not here – that doesn't mean I've _lost_ it… it just means I have to _find_ it." He swallowed and tried speaking again, wanting to hear the strange voice in order to get used to its sound. "I last saw it…" He trailed off abruptly. A flashback caused his stomach to drop. An attacker grabbed one end of it and, with the most incredible strength, forced it straight through Conner's soft, young body and out the other side. He hurried back into the bathroom and lifted the gurney.

Pushing aside the fur, there was a light scar, hardly noticeable. He saw a boot in his mind. Stenciled on the back of the heel was, "J. Cunningham". The big brute appeared to be some sort of bulldog with massive arms. Conner blinked and lowered his eyes further. He nearly blushed, seeing himself for the first time in three years. "So… that's what puberty does." Again, he winced at the deeper tone of his voice, not having expected it. While holding his gurney up, his eyes flitted to the medical tape on his forearm.

Conner dropped his gurney him and pried off the tape. A small amount of fur was shaven from his arm and there was a series of small dots lining the skin. It was lightly bruised. He rubbed at his forearm and walked back out of the bathroom. His eyes immediately landed on an IV rack in the corner by his bed and he made the connection as to the reason for his wrist having puncture marks on it. Quite suddenly, his stomach grumbled. It felt as though he'd not eaten in ages.

Upon approach to the bed, he knelt on the mattress and peered out the window. "Too high to take the scenic route," he murmured softly. He craned his neck trying to get a better angle but couldn't see the ground except for what appeared rather far away at a forty-five degree angle. '_Damn this building is high_,' he thought with a frown.

A man walked by in the hallway outside of his room. Conner made his way to the door and peered out into the hall then grinned. The man was pushing a large Rubbermaid bin on wheels, full of dirty laundry. As soon as the worker walked into the next room over, Conner quickly hopped into the big gray bin and burrowed down into the dirty sheets. Immediately he cursed himself for the idea. The smell of urine, rubbing alcohol and elderly body odor was overpowering.

Seconds later, another sheet and some pillow shams were tossed atop of the pile and the cart began rolling forward again. Ten minutes later, the acoustics of the hallway changed. A soft ding told him that he was probably in an elevator. Conner stood up in the bin, turned towards the stunned worker and delivered a quick jab in the man's face. The worker slumped back into the corner of the elevator and slid down the wall until he was in a sitting position. His head lulled back and his eyes were swollen shut.

Conner's fist ached, his arm felt like jell-o and his eyes watered from the stench of the dirty hospital laundry. He stepped from the bin and, when the doors opened, he casually walked out on the third sub level. A row of washing machines ran across the left wall and dryers lined the right. Up ahead was an office with the light on inside. He approached it cautiously but was relieved to find it empty.

A wall map covered the wall across from the door. "Storage!" he exclaimed, seeing it located on the same sublevel floor. He took a moment to get his bearings then made a left out of the office, away from the laundry machines. He made a right at the next hall and stopped in front of the third door on the right. To his absolute surprise, it was unlocked. He stepped inside and turned on the light. Shelves full of people's belongings filled the room. Everything was sorted by date.

At the back, he came across a leather holster and his sneakers. He was dismayed by the lack of his family's cane but took the holster and shoes anyhow. He dropped the pair of sneakers on the floor and tried to force his foot into one of them only to find that it was too small and didn't fit him. "Damn, how long was I out?" he repeated, under his breath. He kicked the shoes away then sighed.

Something on the shelf stood out to him. He narrowed his eyes and brushed away random accoutrements from the shelf. It was his old cellular phone. The battery was dead but he grinned to himself. '_If I can get the SIM card into another phone, or find a charger that will fit this one… I might be able to get Dawn's number out of the call logs._' Conner went through the other belongings on the shelves until finding pants, a shirt and a pair of shoes that fit him.

Once dressed, he headed back to the elevator and pressed "G", the button with a star next to its label. The doors slid open and he casually walked into the lobby, headed for the main doors. His body ached from lack of muscular use and his legs were growing tight and tired after only a short distance.

Outside, demonstrators were standing thirty meters from the doors. As he walked away from the hospital, one of them approached him. "The END is near, and now would be the best time to repent and find your way!"

The raccoon offered a dull, blank glare. "I don't have time for this."

Tall, well dressed and joined by half a dozen people, the doomsayer continued his rant. "Earthquakes in places where there are no known tectonic borders! Hurricanes of varying intensity during any season of the year! The known rate of SIDS has climbed exponentially!"

Another passerby cut between them, snidely remarking, "The population boom probably has something to do with that; get a job asshole."

The malamute pivoted, offering an obscene gesture to the man that passed by. He then turned to Conner and, in a softer, more personal voice, said, "Ever since December of Twenty-Twelve, the skies haven't been right. The country of Turkey was bombed seven times this week alone. Did you know that in the Revelations, there are seven cities of Asia Minor that are named in order, as the ringing in of the End Days? These are the very same seven locations that were attacked… _in order_."

Cooper drew in a slow breath and said, "It sounds like someone has been reading the Bible a little _too often_ and so they went and bombed seven cities in order of the way they were listed. I really don't have time, man."

"You're RIGHT!" the man shouted. The red and white furred husky pointed to his group of friends with picket signs. "You DO NOT have TIME! NONE OF US DO! Stand with us! Help us spread the message!"

Conner smirked. "Tell you what… While you idiots stand here and preach a message, I'm going to go and actually do something about it." He pushed passed the man with a shake of his head.

The fluffy canine shouted after Conner as if trying to make a point. "Ancient artifacts, on display for the public for generations… have suddenly started disappearing all over the world! There have been an increasing number of sightings involving the Virgin Mary! You can't deny it; the end times are near!"

The teenager frowned… artifacts _were_ disappearing and the weather _was_ getting weird… he remembered being in Miami and learning about both of those occurrences. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, he approached a bus stop and began musing over sun-bleached map on the Plexiglas wall above an empty bench. After locating where he was in comparison to where he needed to go, he took a moment to plot a short walking course. Conner sighed and stuffed his paws into the pants pockets. Something crinkled against his fingers. His nose flared and his brows quirked. He closed his fingers around the flat paper object, withdrawing some currency. He began to laugh in spite of himself.

No sooner did he praise his own good luck, a bus rolled up to the stop. Its brakes released a breathy-sounding grunt and it slowly lowered to the ground. Conner looked the bus over and tilted his head a bit. He didn't remember France having hover-converted public transportation. He stepped onto the bus, put a twenty-note into the machine that read, "Seventeen Euros" and, to his mild amusement, the machine returned change. He blinked and took the currency that was returned from the slot on the front. "Change on a bus… that's new." He moved down the aisle and took a seat.

Conner leaned back and, before long, the bus lifted into the air and began to move forward. Across the street, a bank sign showed the latest sports scores, the local weather and the temperature. It continued to cycle through different displays. He blinked in realization and moved from his seat to the back of the bus, just in time to see it change to the date and time…

Seven thirty-five in the morning… On Saturday, May 5th 2029. The next message to be displayed was an upcoming reminder for Mother's Day. His eyes widened. His throat felt dry and his heart began to race. '_I'm SEVENTEEN years old_," he thought, tightening his paws into fists. '_I'll be eighteen in just over three months from now!_' His eyes remained on the sign as the bus continued forward in traffic. The next message read, "Today: Mexico celebrates heritage and pride after an unlikely victory over France today in 1862! Fun fact: A common misnomer is that today is Mexico's independence day but it's really September 16th 1810!" then scrolled to read about the latest finance news. By now the sign was too far away to read.

* * *

_An hour later…_

**Conner Cooper let himself in through the front door**_**, **_boldly defying any possible security measures in the area. He walked down the hall, up a flight of steps and into a posh study. He sniffed at the air, following his nose to a door at the other end of the small library-like room. He opened the door, coming face to face with a startled little Penelope. Her fur was fluffed up and her hair looked frazzled with disbelief.

Her eyes went wide and she launched her petite frame into Conner's arms, knocking them both to the floor. "OH MY GOD!" she shouted in a high-pitched mousey squeak of delight. "CONNER!"

They both lay on the carpet, side by side. He sat up with a grunt, wincing from the pain in his body. "I'm… a little sore, I don't even think I can hold you up – I'm sorry… I didn't mean to fall and…"

She placed a paw over his mouth. "Shh, Conner… look at you! …And no wonder you hurt and you can't even lift lil' ole me… You've not walked or used your muscles in forty months! That's practically three and a half years, Conner. They were going to take you off life support soon! God, I can't believe it! I have to call Panda King – we were JUST talking about this last week! Oh my _GOD_. I can't believe it's really _you_!"

"Yeah, and I don't have dad's cane! It's not at the hospital – I'm freaking out, and I don't know what to do!"

Penelope was suddenly all smiles. "When they removed it from you, I had to break into the hospital with my remote control gadgets and steal it! I cleaned it up and put it back in its case."

"Oh _thank God_, I was about to lose my mind! So..." he paused and his voice lowered. The raccoon sat up and licked his lips, apprehensively. "So it really was _in_ me?"

"Straight through and out the otherside. We found partial prints on one end… They belong to a man whose name we don't know, but Panda and I believe they belong to Muggshot's brother. We did a DNA trace match on the file we've got for Muggshot. Whoever he is, they're definitely related. We just… don't have a name."

Conner narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "I do. Jasper Cunningham. And when I see him again, I aim to kill him." He took a slow breath to cool his temper and said, "So… not only do I have a beef with him… I have family history with his family. Well, that makes it all the sweeter – I look forward to a rematch, in a sense. Where _is_ everyone? I tried calling mom, dad, Carmen… I can't get anyone's phone – then again… it's been three years, so they probably all have new numbers."

The mouse sat up, her smile transforming into a sorrowful look. As if on cue, her eyes glistened in the light with tears. "Conner… everyone is gone."

"Huh? Where'd they go? Back to Miami?"

She reached forward and placed her small paws upon his shoulders. "Everyone is gone, Conner. They're dead. They went out to sea on a vendetta because you were clinically dead… Last I heard, they located the Atlantis Dome. They breached the dome and started tearing the place in half. I even have a recording of it, streamlined from a camera mounted in Bentley's gear." She shuddered, practically sniveling at the memory. "I watched them taken out in an instant. They were all stunned by an energy weapon and he locked each one of their bodies in some sort of… clear casket… then the reception goes out and I lose feed. It's been three years. I never saw them."

"You what?" He blinked and shook his head rapidly. "You _saw_ them die?"

"Conner, listen to me." She gripped his shoulders as tightly as she could manage. "I've NEVER told anyone about it, not even Mister King. It's too painful to watch. A month after you were found impaled in Tampa, Florida, state officials found Jing King's license with a little bit of her blood on it. I don't know how it got there but he's a very proud man… and his daughter was the first to go down when the team was hit with that energy weapon. I still, to this day, don't have the heart to tell him that his little girl's death is captured on tape. I don't know how her license wound up on that site in Tampa, but I'm assuming that she somehow managed to drop her wallet during the fight where you were taken out. He celebrates her death by honoring her, I don't want him to know she was hit by a beam and drops to the floor without even so much as throwing a punch."

The shocked raccoon blinked rapidly then, once again, shook his head. "I need to see the tape. I need to see how it happens so when I go there to avenge them, I have a plan to beat it."

"Conner…" She lowered her paws, taking his into her grasp. "It shows your parents and your sister, too. I can't let you see that sort of thing."

"I need to… I need closure and I need to study it. I invite you and Mister King to go with me if you wish. But it's probably best that you two work as my logistical team and keep me alive from the other side. Could you both go to Miami with me? I won't go until I've trained myself and my body is back in shape. But… I need to see that footage. Please."

He drew her close to him and embraced her. "Please, I need to see it."

* * *

_Forty Months Ago_…

**Carmelita Cooper withdrew the large gun from her holster and checked the revolver slots**. "It's time to go to work. This one is for Conner. We don't leave here until every last person on this dome is dead or disabled. However, there _are_ families here. No women unless attacked first… no children unless they're a threat to your life, are we clear?" She cracked her knuckles then gritted her teeth. "This ends _tonight_ or we all die trying." The ominous words echoed off the sewer tunnel in the belly of the underwater dome.

Jing King lifted her shotgun to a forty-five degree angle, to keep it pointed in a safe direction. She moved alongside of Bentley and Murray, trudging through the murk. Sly, Winthrop and Karla moved on Carmelita's left, while Sergei and Javari remained behind the vixen. Thomas Gerard was on point, at the front of the group. The team of eleven came to an intersection. Carmelita moved to the center of the group. "I was in these sewers before… years ago." She turned to her daughter and said, "I was only a little older than you. There's a public subway system in the next tunnel over. We're going to take _this_ tunnel to a building where I remember seeing them working on keeping Clockwerk captured at the time."

Carmen frowned. "Captured… these guys must know what they're doing, then… So you know how to get to the main guy's place?"

"Unless he's moved since last time," replied the senior inspector. "We're actually rather close." She pointed to the left. "Okay… Gerard, move to the back of the group and keep your eyes sharp." She then turned to the group and patted Carmen's shoulder. "Okay guys, Carmen will take point – she has a sharp set of eyes. Thomas, you stay at the back. Jing, stay up at the front with Carmen. We still have about two kilometers to go – not very far. When we arrive, we'll split into two groups. I want Surge and Javari to pair with Karla and Winthrop. It'll be your job to search for a weakness in the foundation. Most of the dome resembles a city inside of a snow globe. The buildings up on the topside have foundations just like anywhere else in the world. I want to disable the structural support and let it collapse in on itself."

Carmelita pointed to Bentley, Murray and Sly. "You three are with me," she said, nodding towards Thoams, "And you. Then she motioned to Carmen. "You're on defensive watch. You'll follow the assault team but hang back in case we get into trouble. That way we have backup. Okay… everyone knows their roles, right? Let's go – not much further to walk."

Karla folded her arms, falling back into step with everyone else as the group moved forth. "Wouldn't Bentley be better suited to helping us to take down the foundation to weaken its structural integrity or whatever the term is?"

The vixen shrugged. "It's rather mathematical, which Javari can handle. The thing is, I need Bentley because he'll have the gadgetry to help protect the team as we move through the building and find whoever is in charge. If we come up against computer controlled sections, I'll need him to hack into them and disable them. I'm sorry but he'll be coming with me."

The lush little felox offered a nod. "Fair enough. Onward."

In a short time, the group came to huddle around a metallic door, which looked oddly out of place in the sewer. Carmelita cleared her throat and told them, "This is it. This takes us up to the building where I remember them making their stay, two decades ago. God, I hope this guy doesn't have some sort of strange penchant for changing the location of his headquarters very often."

"Only one way to know for sure," said Carmen to her mother. "You guys first." She approached her father and hugged him firmly, then turned to her mother and embraced her. "You guys be careful up at the front. I mean it. I don't want to lose you guys like we lost Conner – I wouldn't be able to handle that very well." She licked her lips and turned to Bentley. "You're sure that you can rescue Kalen from their cryo chamber? I can't imagine why they would want to have him in stasis… but I'm thankful they didn't kill him."

"Stasis isn't all that great, either," Karla interjected. "But I suppose _anything_ is better than death. Good luck, everyone. Make Conner proud – he's most likely watching us with baited breath right now. I know I would be." She glanced at the door then back at the team and said. "Everyone get close together… and I'll teleport you to the other side of that door. Once you're over there… I can't help you… so do your best to stay alive."

"Don't betray us," said Carmelita in reply. "If you hurt any of them, I'll come for you again… and this time, you won't have a frozen body in reserve to retreat to… that'll be it for you."

A smirk. The felox nodded slowly. "Now is not the time to threaten one another. We've come too far and been through way too much. Conner wouldn't want us fighting, especially now."

"Don't talk about my son like you're his girlfriend," murmured Carmelita.

Karla's smirk grew more sardonic looking. "Sad how the one he called 'girlfriend' disappeared. For as smart as she was, she turned out rather good at running away from her troubles."

"Give it a rest," said Javari. "Dawn wasn't afraid of anything. She's lost everyone and everything over and over… and right now, she's lost herself… she needed to disappear. I don't blame her. So just shut up."

Karla sighed. "I know, she was your friend… but running away seems so…"

Carmelita turned to Chintzy and placed a finger against the woman's chest. "Listen to me… know your art of war. Sometimes falling back and living to fight another day is the only way to win in the end. And if all of us were killed, do you think your best bet would be to stay and fight like a Commando or something? No, that's STUPID. She was exercising her best option, NOT TO MENTION, she was a teenaged girl. No powers, no immortality and a healthy sense of fear after learning what we're all getting in to, here. I don't blame her for disappearing after Conner died. Now quit your griping and let's all go to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home."

"Fair enough," replied Karla. "Get ready." She put her palms together and the carnation pink bands of fur that coiled about her forearms and biceps began to glow. Her eyes shut and she took a moment to meditate. Seconds later, Carmelita, Sly, Bentley, Murray, Thomas and Carmen disappeared from her sight.

On the other side, the group began to move forward into a large sub-level warehouse. Carmen broke away from the group, falling back as ordered by her mother. The team began walking through the large empty chamber. Carmelita turned to Thomas. "Do you remember this building?"

"I don't… I remember waking up on the mini sub after you rescued all of us. I passed out again and didn't fully wake up until we were back in Florida. The first thing I remember is hearing you scream when you found out about Conner."

The vixen tightened her jaw. "We should have stayed and leveled this place a week ago, instead of escaping… maybe Karla was right about running away."

Gerard groaned. "Mrs. Cooper, you were right to help us escape last week… we needed to find your husband and his friends in order to have the help we needed to do this the right away."

Sly placed a paw upon his wife's shoulder. "Carmelita… don't' second guess what you did. If you hadn't escaped, none of us would have been able to find this dome again. Thanks to your resourcefulness, we were able to form a larger group and come here with a plan."

Murray chimed in. "Yeah, a plan _and_ more firepower."

"He makes a good point," added Bentley. "You didn't have access to firepower – you fell back and escaped without being noticed last week. You probably had no supplies or anything else necessary to be victorious… now you do. Don't second guess yourself."

Carmelita cut her gaze to Sergei and Javari who remained silent. She then nodded forward. "Okay." Finally, she cut her eyes back to Jing King. "Take point. We're right behind you."

"I am ready." She nodded politely then moved to the front of the group with her shotgun at the ready. The team crossed to the far end of the room and came to an emergency exit stairwell. "I appreciate this honor – follow my lead, everyone." She took the stairs two at a time with everyone not far behind her.

…

_Bentley's spycam lost streamlining reception. The image turned to a fit of distortion until a few moments later_. The team emerged on the top floor, looking winded for the most part, but charged with adrenaline and ready for anything as well.

The top floor was made of glass, offering a brilliant view of the domed city as well as the sea creatures above and outside the dome. The made their way down the hall in single file. No one spoke. At the end of the hall, Jing put her back against the wall, to the left of an elegant looking door. She lifted her shotgun, keeping it ready. Carmelita moved besides her. Sly, Bentley and Murray moved across from them. Thomas Gerard came to stop several feet in front of the door, forming a box around the doorway.

As if on cue, the door opened. Everyone froze, face to face with someone thought to be long dead. Carmelita's eyes narrowed, as did those of Sly Cooper. Bentley appeared surprised while Murray's expression showed that he practically expected to see the man in the doorway.

Thomas glanced around the room, noting their various expressions. Jing placed her shotgun barrel directly against the mandrill's forehead. Sly Cooper spoke in a soft, firm voice. "Alphonse Moreau. I thought you were beaten, crushed then drowned. Oh, wait, don't tell me… it's a _clone_ of you, right?"

The older Doctor M. offered Cooper a relaxed grin. "No, Cooper, my dear boy. It was me all along. Why else would I want to break into your family's vault? All along I knew of the artifacts hidden within… and I needed them for my 'collection.' And, I know why all of you are here." He cut his gaze to Gerard. "With the exception of _you_. I've paid you – your services are no longer necessary, Inspector. Go home."

Thomas shook his head slowly. "No. What you're doing is unacceptable. Now that I know more about your ulterior motives, someone has to stop you. I'm on their side now."

Everyone glared at Gerard, who kept his eyes on Doctor M. The mandrill shook his head slowly. "I suppose I didn't pay you enough, did I? No matter… You'll die like everyone else here." He cut his gaze back to Sly and said, "It was never my intention to have your son murdered. He got in the way and Muggshot's brother killed him. In fact, Jasper _still_ doesn't even realize that the kid was yours. I'm sure if I told him he would be delighted but… right now he's busy doing work for me. No time for chitchat with my people – you understand how business comes before pleasure. It's always been that way."

Doctor M. panned his gaze to Jing King. "My how you've become your father, my dear. If you pull the trigger here, the ensuring fireball would kill or injure everyone here, including yourself. So I know you'll behave. Stop grimacing at me – it will give you wrinkles later in life, my dear." He lifted a hand, touching his forehead. "See? I'm living proof." Then, without warning, he drew his other hand from behind his back and pressed a button on a small remote control unit.

Jing King was thrown back from the group, hitting the floor over ten feet away. A wisp of steam rose above her singed fur. The shotgun clattered to the floor.

Thomas Gerard drew a pistol and pointed it at the doctor. "Moreau, you're in over your head. Two hurricanes in the off-season? People died in those storms. You're out of your mind. How did you even get the last artifacts you needed, anyhow?"

"I faked my death, you nitwit," said the mandrill with a roll of his eyes. "After Cooper and his friends left, he discarded his cane in a silly act of defiance." M. turned to Sly and said, "This isn't a spaghetti western, where you lay down your guns for the girl at the end of the movie, you idiot. I used the cane to access part of the vault that was hidden away. I was injured, sure, but I made do. I took the pieces I needed, save for that stupid pendant your family had taken from Clockwerk… it wasn't to be found. But I got all the other pieces I required."

He cleared his throat then pressed the button on his remote again. An electronic beam came from out of emitters in the ceiling. Thomas Gerard was thrown clear down the hallway. Moreau continued. "Sly, I'm down to only two artifacts left. Then the collection will be complete. One is still in western Russia, or possibly still in Europe… the other artifact is somewhere on your wife." He turned to Carmelita and lifted the control in the air. "My next target is your _daughter_ who thinks she is clever enough to hide from me…she doesn't even know it yet. SO hand it OVER."

Carmelita shook with rage. Reluctantly, she removed her wedding ring and handed it to the man. "We melted it down and turned it into this… we thought it might make it useless to whoever was stealing these artifacts… I hope you find it to be quite useless, now, _Alphonse_."

Moreau lifted it up in his free hand and admired the golden band for a moment. "No, it was blessed by someone special… or perhaps made with alien technology… whatever makes it so special… it doesn't matter… this will do."

"We can't let you leave here alive, you know." Murray cracked his knuckles. "I've flossed my teeth with the spines of lesser men. But you… I have something special for you… I'm going to make new boxing gloves with your hide, old man."

"Oh give it up, Murray," said Doctor M. with a chuckle. "You're all going to the same place as your friend over there," he nodded towards Jing, "and over there," he said, nodding towards Thomas. "Right about _now_." He pressed the button on his remote again, zapping everyone in the group simultaneously. Moreau knelt down and plucked the camera off of Bentley's bowtie then lifted it up, inspecting the small gadget. "I don't imagine this will wind up on YouTube, will it? I surmise that the little mouse is on the other end of this… if you're watching… the show isn't over yet. I plan to send this little camera along with your friends… that way you can see where they're going… Don't worry, these caskets are made of glass… you'll be able to see _everything_ up until it's all over."

* * *

**Conner pushed away** from the computer screen. "I don't need to see where they've gone." He paused, looking at the screen that displayed a counter. Six minutes of footage left. He didn't care to see that part. "If that guy is at the bottom of this… then it's only right that _I'm_ the one to get vengeance. Besides, if he put Kalen into suspended animation… and if he's putting my family into 'glass caskets' it's quite feasible that they're _all_ in cryogenic stasis. I have to know for sure… I _have_ to be the one to do this. And if they're dead… well, he'll be joining them _real soon_."

"How do you plan on stopping him?" asked Penelope.

"I need the artifact he hasn't found yet."

She quirked a brow at him, soft age lines furrowed upon her forehead. "How can we be sure he hasn't already found this last artifact?"

"Because the doomsayers out on the street corners are still predicting an end that hasn't come. If I woke up today and found Paris burned to the ground… and read the paper about how weather, disease and famine wiped out two thirds of the population… I'd be convinced he found the last artifact… So I have to get it before he does. Whatever it is."

She wanted to make sure he was considering all his options. "Who's going to help you?"

The raccoon half-breed offered Penelope a wry smile. "Dawn isn't dead. She's probably hiding and I know just how to find her. She has two public servers – they're hiding in plain sight. I know the location of the one she has in Russia. I'm going to go to the library near where I met her… It's masquerading as the library's main computer server. I'll log into it and make enough changes that she'll get the message immediately. I won't go hunting for her… I'll have her come to me. Once she contacts me, I'll arrange a meeting and we'll start researching information about this last artifact so I can find it and steal it."

The mouse patted the side of his face with a paw. "What town is the library located in – I'll help you hack into it from here, just in case she's not in Russia to meet you… don't go all the way over there just for something we can do by remote connection to the IP that we can track back to that physical mailing address."

"Really? We can do that? God, I need her help – let's do it. Then I want to find out who else survived – maybe the Tiikeri sisters or something."

She lowered her paw to his shoulder, locking her gaze with her godson. "When I watched the last minutes of footage from Bentley… and I've watched it and studied it quite a few times… I needed to desensitize myself from it, so as not to have nightmares about it… I noticed that Karla and Winthrop were _not_ among the others. The boy, Surge, and his girlfriend, Javari… they were among the group. Karla and Winthrop disappear after the part where she teleports them from the sewer to the warehouse, on the other side of that big steel door. Perhaps she and Winthrop teleported to safety."

Cooper rubbed his chin in thought. "I sure hope so… I could use her abilities to survive a return to the dome."

"I thought you didn't believe in supernatural abilities."

His gaze went dull. He deadpanned, glaring at his godmother. "It's hard not to accept the fact that she can teleport and telekinetically move objects, when she does it so frequently without any smoke or mirrors in the vicinity."

"But you weren't even around her long enough to see her use those abilities, right?"

He ran his paws back through his hair and sighed. "Okay, this is what happened… I didn't learn this until my deathbed, by the way… but I was lying there going in and out of consciousness. At one point, I look up, while holding the cane that was jutting out of my gut… She tried to teleport _just_ the cane out of me… and it electrocuted her. So, to protect me, she levitated me and carried me back to the car then laid me out on the trunk. Meanwhile, she was fighting off some of the attackers by using random pieces of rubble and debris to deflect rounds. I saw her abilities first hand… I think I'm ready to be open-minded enough to believe. Then she did it with a group of people in the video you showed me."

"Fair enough." The mouse's tail coiled around her right ankle. "Follow me upstairs to the main computer room. We'll work on that library that was in the town where you met that girl."

"Good deal." Conner crackled his knuckles and followed her up to a room up the third floor. It contained several nice computers, each with multiple screens. "The sooner we get this done, the better. The doomsayers in the streets said the world is going to end soon… The world _is_ going to end… for Doctor M. I'll see to it, personally."

"What's the plan?"

The teenager smirked. "First I train and get my abilities back… then I go and I find this last artifact… it's the last piece of the puzzle. And I use it to get his attention… then I trace the lead back to his dome… and I kill him in person."

* * *

A/N: _Much, much more to come! Time to reassemble the team and kick the crap out of the bad guys! So… drama and intrigue this chapter… ready for more action, next chapter?_

_I need to have him train, find Dawn, Karla and Winthrop… then, uh… they go after Muggsey's brother, Jasper, and trace it back to Doctor M. Then you'll really see some fireworks. _

_:D _

-me


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter -19-

**The cane felt heavy in his grip**. He transferred it to his other paw then back to his right. "It felt lighter when I was younger… that doesn't seem right, huh?" He glanced at his godmother then shifted his eyes to Panda King who still wore his jacket. Conner brought the pole perpendicular across his chest then pushed it outwards as though he was lifting weights. "It also tingles when I touch it… that's not normal, either."

"You're weak, after not moving for three years," she said, adding, "But the tingling bit… I did notice that. I had to put the thing into a sheath – it was too uncomfortable to touch for some reason." Penelope brought a small paw to her chin then tilted her head. "It didn't bother me to hold it with rubber gloves when I was cleaning it, though. Something else I noticed that you might find fascinating… all the houseplants in the room reach towards the glass case. Now, typically a plant only does that towards a window. But no matter what plants I kept in the room, they always leaned in the direction of the cane. And, no, I'm not using UV bulbs or anything of that nature. I don't even illuminate the showcase. I throw a blanket over the damn thing so I don't have to look at it. I mean… it was a reminder, you know?"

Conner forced a weak smile. "Yeah. I understand." He tried twirling the cane off the back of his paw the way he used to do a few years ago… the metallic pole clattered to the floor and rolled along the ground. "Damn," he muttered. The raccoon followed the cane across the floor, reaching for it. After the third rotation, it came to a rest with the hooked end facing up, the arch touching the floor.

Upon extension of his paw towards the pole, it began to roll backwards. Conner blinked and jerked his head back towards Penelope and Panda. "Did you just see that?" He placed his paw on the pole then pushed it away from himself… it rolled away with a wobbling sound from the way the hooked top clattered across the ground. Trying again, he reached for the pole and, without warning, it reversed course, rolling backwards towards his reaching paw. "Now _that_ is weird… You guys see this, right?"

"Indeed, it is quite an anomaly." Panda folded his arms, a curious look of intrigue set upon his face. Penelope's expression mirrored the bear's look, but without the concern in her eyes.

"Put it on the table, Conner. Reach for it there… Get further back, see if it does it again."

The raccoon placed the cane on a nearby coffee table then walked away. He turned about, knelt down and reached out for the cane. It wobbled slightly then rolled from the table, across the hardwood floor and came to him like a faithful pet.

The mouse reached a paw behind one of her large ears and scratched softly. "Wow… it looks like the force is strong with you, young padawan. Maybe I should check your midichlorian count." She grinned.

"My _what_?" Conner glanced up from the cane, looking at her. He lifted his paws in a somewhat defensive manner. "Wait, pop culture – is this some movie I missed when I was asleep?"

"Uh, no." Penelope's grin broadened. "It was a movie you missed when your father was a naughty twinkle in your _grandfather_'s eye. But it's a cult classic franchise and it's easier to have you watch'em then to explain it. Furthermore, I want to see you do that again. Drop it on the floor and see if you can pick it up without bending over and touching it."

The raccoon grimaced with a slight glare. He dropped the cane on the floor. It clattered loudly. He looked up at Penelope, whose facial expression told him that she wasn't very pleased with the way in which he took her words so literally.

Conner then lowered his paw as if reaching for it but without leaning over. The cane jostled about then the blunt end, opposite of the hook, lifted from the floor and met his palm. He blinked and said, "Didn't Karla have this ability?"

King tilted his head, unfolding then refolding his arms. "Try it on something else," Panda mused.

"Okay…" The teenager crossed the room and reached for a metal coaster collection sitting on a nearby shelf. Nothing happened. "Maybe it only happens to things that are made of certain… I don't know. Whatever the cane is made from."

"Can I run some tests on you?"

"Ugh, I don't like needles – what will you need?"

Penelope motioned her paws outwards. "Oh, I dunno – everything except for a sperm sample, kiddo. Blood, hair follicles, skin cell sample, saliva swab, urinalysis, sweat swab, fingernail clipping…" She paused, tapping a pensive nail against her bottom lip, pondering for anything else. "Hmm, that should be about it."

"No mucus, huh?" asked Conner with a sarcastic voice.

Penelope's face lit up. "Actually, if you think you can manage it!"

Panda brought his palm to his face, groaning with a shake of the head. "What would such things accomplish?"

Conner, standing over by the bookshelves, reached for the cane on the floor nearby. It began to swivel about then rolled wildly across the hardwood surface. It leapt from the ground to his paw. He closed his fingers around the shaft, firmly. "This is really cool. I wonder what could have possibly caused it. It's like… some sort of magnet."

Penelope's eyes widened. "That's it!" She snapped her fingers. "I have a theory I want to test!" She darted out of the room then returned a moment later with a vest. "This has lead in it. I want you to _gently place the cane on the floor and walk away_ then reach for it. I'll hold this between the two of you."

"Sure." Conner put the metallic pole on the floor and walked across the room. He lifted his paw and the pole began to shudder. It slowly dragged along the ground, long-ways, headed towards Conner.

Penelope stepped forward, placing the lead vest between his paw and the staff. It stopped sliding but continued to twitch lightly. "Okay, so this has thick density and, while it still shows attractive properties – you see that it's wobbling with stored energy – the fact remains that by blocking it's path, your ability to reach for it is now reduced. I don't know if it's because we're blocking the field or if you have to develop this ability better to move the object. Or, quite possible, you need to have some sort of direct line of sight… an unobstructed path, you know? Hmm, or maybe you have to perceive it to be there. If it _is_ a magnetic attraction, we need to have you learn your range, limit and if there is a catch. Whatever the drawback may be, knowing your ability and its limitations will make it more effective for you to use. I'll still need all those samples – I'm going to study the properties related between the cane and the various bits of Conner. Maybe it's in your blood, maybe it's in your skin; it could be anything. But what we've seen thus far is only serving to strengthen my theory."

"Okay." Conner tried twirling the cane again like an oversized baton. He stumbled with it somewhat but didn't drop it this time. "What's your hypothesis?"

"Remember when you stole the cane a few years ago… all our computers in the area blitzed out?"

"Yeah, I remember," he replied.

"It's possible that you're somehow electronically charged. It would explain seeing the lighting, if it did indeed strike the hospital last week." Penelope began pacing, waving her paws about as she spoke. "Now, everyone knows that if you use electricity and charge a piece of metal, you get an electromagnet. Everyone ALSO knows that you can magnetize a piece of metal, like a screwdriver with a magnetic tip. My theory is… that you…_you_, Conner… you are electrically charged somehow and, because the cane was absolutely coated in your blood when you were impaled with it… maybe somehow you gave it properties that it didn't have before. That means you can interact with it in this fashion. Having all those samples will show me whether or not this is something in your DNA, in your red cells or if it's something different. Have you ever been struck by lightning?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he mused with a shrug. "I've killed watch batteries for years, though. They don't last long when they're on my wrist, that's for sure."

"Fair enough – that's an important thing for you to have told me. Anything else that you want to share?"

"Karla tried to teleport the cane from out of my body and was electrocuted as a result."

"That's right!" Again, Penelope snapped her fingers. "Fascinating! Anything else off the top of your head?"

"If I think of anything I'll let you know. How long do you need the cane? I want to practice."

"Just get me those samples and give me the cane. I'll head down to the lab right away while you spend some time with the weights; don't forget, we have a swimming pool out back. Remember to keep your metabolism up – eat something before you work out. I don't know – I'm not much of a weight training type, so look it up online. I don't want to give you bad advice."

"Dad trained me on how to get in shape and stay that way. I'll take care of it." Conner grinned and tossed the cane to her. She caught it and grimaced. He quirked a brow at her. "It's not _that_ heavy, I'm the one who hasn't lifted anything in three years."

"No, it's uncomfortable to the touch." She wrapped the bottom of her shirt hem around the shaft, keeping it covered. "Maybe you caused that ability, too. I'll look into it using control samples… my skin samples, blood and other such things… I'll see how it interacts to my samples compared to yours." She turned to King and nodded for him to follow. "You're with me, big guy. I need a lab assistant. Let's find you a white coat and an apron – you'll look _so_ cute in it!"

The older man narrowed his gaze slightly. In a deep, monotone voice, he muttered, "I can hardly contain my excitement."

They left the room. Conner rubbed at his temples. He had a headache and his neck was tight. His eyes cut to the small hand weights in the far corner of the room. They were sitting on a rubber mat about a meter by two meters in size. "I wish I had a charger for my freaking cell phone." He paused then thought to himself, '_Like everyone else, Dawn probably changed her number, too. There's no point in trying to call her, but if I don't do it… I can't say I at least tried_.' The raccoon continued to rub the side of his head and walked across the room and into the kitchen. "Okay… good food, high protein. Let's see." He began rummaging through the cabinets.

* * *

**The seventeen-year-old boy **wiped his forehead with a towel. He tossed the towel overtop the weights and walked upstairs. At the top of the steps, he opened a small closet and withdrew a bath towel then carried it into the bathroom. He draped the towel over the door handle and had a short flashback of when he'd put his sister's robe over her doorknob, the day after Christmas, right after his parents went missing. She wore the Tiffany's bangle and looked tired in wrinkled clothing. She told him she was going to take a shower then make lunch. (_Chapter2_)

He disrobed and tossed his clothes in the corner then opened the glass sliding door and stepped into the shower. A panel on the wall illuminated from his proximity. He reached up and touched the red digital picture setting the water temperature. He recalled hearing Dawn's words, _'I hope you like the water __hot__._" To which he had replied, "_Make it as hot as you can stand it_." (_Chapter10_) He swallowed back a lump in his throat, pained by the memory. He told himself to relax – Dawn was still alive, hiding out there…

But was his sister? He fiddled with the dial then activated the water. It came out of the showerhead at the perfect temperature. His left ear flickered under the hot water. He tilted his head, hearing a faint giggling sound. Javari's voice was muffled, saying something dirty to the Russian kid, Sergei. They were fooling around in the next room over. Conner shook his head hard to clear his thoughts. He pushed the next flashback out of his head as quickly as it started.

Penelope's voice called out from the other side of the door. "When you're finished, come down stairs. I found some interesting stuff and, well… I'll explain later." Then, in what sounded like his mother's voice, she added, "_I'll make lunch; it'll be on the kitchen table when you get out of the shower_."

Conner leaned back against the tiled wall, water running down his face. He felt overwhelmed. For the first time in the thirty hours since waking up, he started thinking about his family and his friends. He started reflecting on everything that he'd lost. His chest tightened with heartache.

His tears felt hotter than the water. His eyes burned and his shoulders ached with what felt like weight – a metaphorical baggage – set upon them. Slowly, he slid down the wall to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and embracing them with a sigh. There he sat, beneath the hot water, pouting softly. The teenager pushed his face between his knees, his ears lay back and he choked on his sobs.

There was a knock at the door. "Conner, are you all right?" He expected Penelope's voice but it was actually the baritone words of Panda King. "You're long overdue for that, if you're doing what I _think_ you're doing."

The teen sighed. He took a long, slow breath to try and calm himself then called through the bathroom door, "I heard you don't show any emotion over the loss of Jing. How the hell can I bottle this? I don't _want_ to let it out."

The door opened and Panda stepped in, shutting the bathroom door. He settled on the floor, opposite of the glass shower stall, in a meditative posture. "Holding in your pain will poison you. When I am alone, I cry. Crying is manly, despite the things we teach our young children. We tell them, _do not cry when it hurts_ because physical pain should be overcome by fortitude. But emotional pain is _different_. If you hold it in, it _will_ destroy you from the inside out. There are many ways of facing your pain. I meditate. Tears are a natural method of release – a perfectly acceptable method, and when I'm not in public, I have no qualms about sharing my tears with the walls."

"You do it in solitude? That's what I'm doing, but that's just it… I don't want to do it _at all_."

"There is no shame in such an act – it's good for you in moderation." Panda tilted his head, almost glaring at the boy on the other side of the glass enclosure. "Conner, have you yet to sleep?"

"I slept for _three years_. I don't _want_ to sleep through another day, right now." He lifted his head from his knees but kept them drawn to his chest. "It's been since yesterday morning. That's…what? Thirty hours, since I woke up, yesterday? I spent all night on the Internet, trying to learn what I've missed. I've worked out all morning and I _don't_ feel tired."

"You're running on adrenaline," replied King. "You've been in shock at what has happened. That shock is finally wearing off, coupled with going a great length of time without sleep. Your body is designed to sleep eight hours for every sixteen spent awake. At least four waking hours should be devoted to relaxing your body and mind. You are in need of rest."

"I'm _not_ sleepy," he said, adding, "I just… remembered a few things about people that I care about. Penelope told you I believe that everyone might still be alive, right?"

"Do you seek their rescue?"

"Damn right I do. And I'm _scared_. I'm _scared_ that I might be wrong. I'm _scared_ that I might be joining them. I'm _scared_ that I can't do it alone. I'm _scared_ and I'm _angry_. I need _help_. You're too old; Penelope is too frail to be risking her life and wielding a gun. I wasn't strong enough the first time around… and now I'm exhausted after only twenty-five sit-ups. I can't even do more than ten pushups before my arms feel like jelly. How the hell am I supposed to do this alone?"

Panda paused, placing his paws together and closing his eyes with a frown. "If Jing is alive… you would be the second Cooper to rescue her. After the first time, she vowed never to be too weak to help herself, _ever_ again. She vowed to have the ability to defend herself from capture. She became very strong and, yet, after all of her training… she _failed_ to protect herself. She failed to defend you. But she was strong enough to _try_. I honor her spirit. I mourn her. I _do_ cry. It's perfectly fine to let it out – it is unwise to bottle your emotions and your pain _all_ the time."

"Jing didn't deserve any of this," Conner muttered. "If anything, _I_ failed _her_. We have family history. You and my father… I should have been there to watch her back – you never let my father down but I let down your daughter. So far as I'm concerned, our families are like _this_," he said, lifting a paw with his fingers crossed. "She stood over me when I was injured. The man grabbed my cane and ran me through with my own damn weapon. Jing stood over me and protected me from the other attackers. I remember looking up at her while slipping in and out of consciousness. She and the others formed a circle around me to keep me from being finished off by those attackers. I vaguely remember looking up… there was a man who had a crowbar. He lifted it and was about to bash my brains in with it. Just then, Jing came from out of nowhere… She kicked the weapon out of his hand in mid swing… it caught her in the leg. If she didn't have her wallet in her pocket, it would have done a lot more than leave a gash. I still remember seeing the light stain of blood that soaked through her pants."

King opened his eyes and looked up at the boy huddled against the wall. "Her pants… they were ripped open from this attack, yes?"

Conner half-shrugged. "I think so. I don't remember all the fine details – I was kinda' on my deathbed. But I _do_ remember that she blocked his melee blow with a kick. And I do remember that she had blood on her outer thigh. I also remember seeing her wallet torn apart from the crowbar hitting it. It was lying a few inches from my nose. Odd, but… while lying there, bleeding out… I was thinking how it was good that she had it in her pocket, else the crowbar would have probably hurt her a _lot_ worse. She was a good friend. I owe her my life – she kept me from being bludgeoned. My _entire_ family owes your family a debt, over and over again for your aid in our time of need. What more can I say?"

"Conner…" King looked down again with a guilty sigh. "Did your father ever tell you how he and I met?"

"No, why?"

The large bear tightened his jaw. "I see. This will be awkward and difficult to swallow. I do apologize; I was a different person in my youth and am not proud of my past."

"I'm not following," said Conner. He lifted his right paw from his knees and used the backside of his wrist to wipe the water and tears from his eyes.

"I was once an ally of Clockwerk, your family's mortal rival. There were four of us commissioned by Clockwerk to find something that your family had in its possession at the time. We located the home of your father and collectively attacked and murdered your grandparents. Your father only escaped because he was hiding inside of a closet, where he watched _everything_ that transpired that evening. But, instead of letting his emotions destroy him, he came to terms with what he saw me do. Your father displayed incredible honor by putting aside our differences. Conner, he helped me to rescue my daughter. This is, of course, happened several years after exacting his revenge on me. After he defeated my cohorts, one by one, he came for me. After the overwhelming loss I experienced, your mother placed me under arrest. In the end, I was humbled into peace. When next we met, your father took pity on me by helping me to rescue my daughter. If anything, I owe _your_ family a debt… for showing me humility, forgiveness and saving my only child."

Conner glared at the man. "I don't exactly know how I feel about what you've just said… but it sounds to me like bad karma caught up with you. Jing didn't deserve anything negative to happen to her… but _you_ certainly deserve to _grieve_."

"I should have met my end, not her."

Conner smirked. "Then she would be the one hurting… mourning. She doesn't deserve anything bad happening to her – certainly not losing her only remaining family member. _She _never murdered anyone's family while a child was forced to watch. _IF_ she's still alive, I'll rescue her… but I'm doing it for her, not for you. I'm doing it for my family and my friends. I won't hold it against her that her father was a complete _asshole_ in his youth. And I'm sorry it took my parents beating on your tail then turning around and saving your kid just to make you understand humility."

"I would like to think that my meditation would have eventually steered me into the direction of peace once I matured."

"No, you wouldn't have learned from putting your palms together and closing your eyes. If you didn't have that stuff happen to you, you'd still be a piece of crap. Damn, man! That's like saying that the one actor who spent millions of dollars on research to help people walk again – after being paralyzed from a back injury – was a good man… Would he have spent a _dime_ on the research necessary to help people recover from spinal injuries… IF… he was never hurt in the first place? I DOUBT IT."

King tilted his head. "Christopher Reeves. He gave to charities _before_ his injuries. After his injuries, he felt it was a _sign_ and devoted the rest of his resources to the many others who were crippled _like_ him. He felt that the injury was his calling to do the world a service by offering a means for that type of research… and so he funded it. From what I understand, Bentley utilized a lot of that research – paid for by the late actor."

"What about the actor who had Parkinson's disease? Would he have spent money and started a charity organization to find a cure for Parkinson's disease… _if_ he never came down with it? Probably not."

"Indeed. You speak of Michael J. Fox. But what is your point?"

"Now what about the creator of Microsoft?" Conner lifted his head again. "He had more money than anyone else. Nothing bad happened. He never lost his kids, his health or anything else. Instead, he lived a very posh, comfortable life. And what does he decide to do with that money? He started a charity for children, for disease, for goddamn third world countries who are too poor to fight off Malaria and all that crap. He didn't need an eye-opening experience to do good things with his wealth and his status… He did it because he _wanted_ to."

The raccoon glared at the bear, teeth gritted. His large brown eyes shined in the bathroom lighting. He wiped the water from the fur around his mouth and shook his head at the long-time family ally. "It's a shame you couldn't be a _good man_ until _after_ you were humbled, forgiven _and_ helped. So, in the end, you're still an asshole who turned into a hero thanks to special circumstances. Just imagine if you got away with what you did, and just imagine if your daughter didn't need saving… you'd probably be an old brat at this very moment. Maybe some boss in a Chinese organized crime syndicate or something. Because, hey, you sure didn't feel _any_ guilt about murdering my grandparents until _after_ you were taken down a notch or two… am I right?"

King took a moment to consider Conner's words. "You are correct. I felt no remorse until much later. It wasn't after my defeat… I first felt remorse when your father helped me with Jing. I felt guilt for murdering the parents of the man who came to my aid in my time of need. I was awash with shame, grief, and guilt. It was then that I vowed to help your father by whatever means necessary. To this day, I still hold close to that vow. He has made me a better man by opening my eyes. You are perhaps correct… I would be a different person if things did not happen in the same way. Your father has spared me from a life of crime and hate. It's possible that I would be dead by now from various things, had he not intervened. I'm sorry for what I've done to your family, as well as what I've done to the families of others, in my past."

Cooper lifted a paw from his knees, waving it in a dismissive fashion. "Don't grovel for forgiveness from _me_, old man. My father could forgive you… and so can I. Unlike you, I'm not a jerk in my youth. By the way… did you know the name of the man you killed that night? The name of my grandfather…?"

"I did not."

The raccoon leaned his head back against the tiled walls, glaring through the glass wall between them. "I was named after him to honor his memory. His name was Conner Cooper. He enjoyed cherry-flavored pipe smoke. He read bedtime stories to my father and was the first Cooper to embrace a new style of thievery in the twentieth century by figuring out new techniques with lasers. His name was Conner Cooper – don't forget it. I hope you take the guilt to your grave; you deserve it. I need some time to cry, _alone_. Tell Penelope I'll be down when I'm good and ready – have her put lunch in the fridge for now." He lifted a paw, pointing over at the door. "Please leave."

King stood up and drew in a slow breath. "I thank you for telling me of the day when you were mortally wounded. It brings me pride to know that Jing helped you." He reached into his pocket and drew out her license. "This was recovered from that site one month later. It had her blood on it. I was unsure as to how she expired; thank you for bringing me that peace…"

The bear opened the door and began to step through. Conner cleared his throat and said, "You want to know _who_ took her down? It was Doctor M., the bastard who you helped fight so that my father could take back his inheritance. He's the guy responsible for whatever has happened to Jing. And I'm going to kill the sunovabitch. Do you know that Moreau used to work with my grandfather before you _murdered_ him? Yeah… Doctor M. was on my grandfather's team. Now _that_ is some bad karma from harsh irony. You took down M.'s team leader… he took down your daughter. Screwed up circle, isn't it? Now get _out_."

Panda pulled the door shut behind himself. Conner pushed his face back against his knees, overwhelmed by grief and survivor's guilt. He clinched his paws tightly, sitting beneath the hot water.

He murmured to himself. "Mom said there were _families_ on that dome… the families of the workers who live there, helping that man…" He shook his head slowly. "I'm not like Panda King; I don't kill people's family… I'm going to evacuate that place _before_ I blow it the hell up." He felt resolved but emotionally drained. His body ached, his neck was tighter than before and the crying didn't help his headache.

"For being such a smart man, it sure was _stupid_ of him to tell me he helped kill my grandfather. For Chri'sake, I've lost my entire family… what the hell was he thinking he would accomplish by bringing that up at a time like _this_?" Conner lifted his head again, thumping the backside of his skull against the tiled wall. "I seriously want to rip someone apart, right now." His eyes closed and he steadied his breathing. After a few more minutes, Conner stood up, deactivated the shower and opened the glass door. He took his towel and walked across the hallway to the upstairs guest bedroom.

Without another word, he laid down for a nap.

* * *

**"Conner, wake up**_**.**_**" **The feminine voice was gentle and sweet. Penelope's small paw patted him on the leg. "I found Winthrop Weasel. He's living here, in France. He is one of the only survivors – you should probably look him up."

The boy sat up in bed and rubbed either side of his face. "Any word about Dawn? You put that message on the library server, like I asked, right?"

"Yes I did, but I've not heard from her. Winthrop lives in a small town to the west of the city. You and Panda King should go over there and talk to him."

Conner brought his paws inwards, rubbing at his eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks. Y'know, he made me realize something, earlier. At first, I wanted to find that dome and just blow the whole damn thing up… but there are people's families on that thing. After talking to him, I decided it's best if I find a way to evacuate it _first_… then I'm going to implode that thing and send it to the bottom of the ocean."

"You slept through lunch _and_ dinner. Are you hungry? I'll make you something to eat before you go."

"What time is it? I don't want to wake the guy up in the middle of the night."

Penelope stood up from the bed. "It's only eight-thirty. You've got all night. He's hardly half an hour from here. But you're in no condition to roof-walk your way to the address."

"I'll take a cab over there… I'll roof-walk back. I need the practice." He lifted the covers and glanced down. Nothing on… He tilted his head, looking down at the floor adjacent to the bed. His bath towel was lying on the ground. "Hmm, do you have something I can wear, here?"

"Actually, I do…" She offered him a smile. "It's not been worn in a _long_ time, but it looks like it should be about your size, now." Penelope lifted an index finger. "Hold tight, Conner." She left the room. After what felt like quite some time, she returned with a folded blue shirt, gray slacks and a yellow piece of fabric, folded into a triangle, which sat atop of the outfit. Penelope laid it on the bed. She then placed a pair of blue gloves with gold trim atop of everything. "This belonged to your father. He got rid of it the day he left Kane Island." She then produced a blue cap and turned it upside down. Inside the hat was a red pouch with a leg strap. "He used to put his findings into this container. It's all yours – wear it when you go after Moreau. But do me a favor… don't go to see Winthrop until tomorrow afternoon. I want you to relax, first. A good night of sleep after spending some time relaxing – that's the way to do it. But feel free to try on the clothes, now. If you want to practice roof walking, go out on the town for a little bit."

"Thanks." He looked up at her with a soft smile. "I appreciate it. I think I _will_ go out for a walk and clear my head tonight."

"Come down stairs and get some dinner before you go." Penelope leaned forward and brushed her lips against his forehead. "You look as handsome as your father, now. Same big brown eyes. Same sharp facial features. You're a real looker, kiddo. Y'know, I used to have a little crush on him when we _first_ met. Silly, isn't it? Bentley later won my heart… but what I'm trying to tell you… is that you're a good lookin' young man; you'll catch a few eyes. One day, if you play your cards right, you'll make some girl a very lucky young lady. So please… don't go getting yourself killed, okay?"

"I promise I won't die. Hey," he offered her a slight grin, "I haven't died yet, right?"

"You just keep telling yourself that, Sleeping Beauty." She patted the side of his face then left the room and shut the door.

Conner took his father's old clothes and unfolded them to look over them. After a few moments to inspect them, he slid out of bed and got dressed…

* * *

_Mid afternoon, the next day._

**The address on the post-it note **was neatly written, her handwriting all pretty curves. Conner lifted his gaze to the mailbox with a flowerbox attached to the back. It was pleasantly situated in front of a well-maintained white picket fence that surrounded a lush, beautiful green lawn. The two story single-family home had white shutters that matched the fence. The house looked like something out of an old-timey movie from the 50's when color was just starting to become popular on motion pictures.

He opened the latch on the gate and stepped into the yard, following the quaint cobblestone walkway. "Either he's gay or he's married," Conner mumbled beneath his breath. He made his way up elegant brick steps to the front stoop then rang the doorbell. It sounded like muffled choir bells.

The door opened and a toddler looked up at Conner. Patches of tan and white, the little boy's pacifier prohibited him from enunciating the word, "Hello!" spoken in a boisterous tiny voice.

The teenager blinked and lowered to one knee. "Hi there… Your mommy or daddy around?"

"Momma's inn'a den." His words, although cute, were difficult to understand from the pacifier. "Daddy's at work 'till after bedtime."

"Oh, I see," replied Conner in a child-friendly voice. Footfalls in the foyer caught his attention. His eyes lifted from the small boy, to a pair of lush long legs. A single word crossed his mind. '_MILF?_' His eyes continued to lift – a classy looking skirt, shapely hips, full well-endowed busty chest… then his eyes met her face and her sparkling green eyes. "Holy sh—" He paused, quickly looking back down at the little boy. "…Crap. I mean _crap_."

Amused, the little boy looked straight up as his mother approached him from behind and dutifully reported, "Momma, he almost said a bad word."

Karla _Weasel_ knelt down and picked the little boy up by his waist. She brought him to her hip and stood up in unison to Conner, face to face. "You'd better _not_ be a clone."

He lifted the front of his shirt, using two fingers to spread the fur apart. There was a plainly visible scar from where he'd been impaled. He dropped the shirt and his eyes lifted to her.

"My God, Conner… I'm…" Her state of shock was obvious. But a calm smile spread across her muzzle. She leaned in and kissed the left then the right side of his muzzle. "I'm so glad and… at the same time, I'm _so_ sorry."

He brought a paw up and touched her left paw, which she had rested upon the little boy's rump. Conner traced his fingertip over the diamond ring and the wedding band adjacent to it. "Wow… I don't know what to say. I'm just… wow. You… and _Winthrop_?"

"Me and Winthrop," she confirmed. She lifted her free paw, gesturing to the landscape and the house. "He decorated, but… it's growing on me." Another smile. "This is Donovan – I named him after the only good one in the group." She then sweetened her voice, addressing the little boy. "Donovan, this is Conner."

The small child lifted a paw, drawing the pacifier from his muzzle. In a clear, well-enunciated voice, he announced, "Hello, Conner! A pleasure to meet you!"

Cooper blinked. "…Wow. He _sounds_ intelligent for his age."

She shook her head slowly with a chuckle. "He'll be three years old in two months and he's already reading at a first grade level."

The teenager tilted his head. "How long is the gestation period for your two breed mixes?"

Her grin broadened. "I was engineered for mating," she murmured softly. "Five months from single cell to Mensa certified toddler. He can practically balance our checkbook."

Conner drew his head back, offering the tyke a commending expression. "Good job, buddy!"

The small boy replied, "It's just counting to ten for each row'a numbers. …Not that hard, y'know. Daddy makes two-hundred fifty thou… thowe…" He licked his lips to get his tongue to cooperate and tried again only in time for Karla to cover his maw with her free palm.

"_Euros_ a year?" Conner raised his brows. "So you're telling me that you're engineered to develop a zygote into a Mensa certified _fetus_ and then out of the oven in a grand total of… _five months_?"

"Yes… and yes." She nodded her head slowly then raked her eyes over him. "You look good in your father's clothes. I've seen pictures of your father wearing this outfit… they fit you well." She then chuckled. "And you've grown."

"So have you; we both look almost legal now." This time, Conner grinned. Impasse – no one spoke for a moment. He folded his paws in front of himself then, in a soft tone, told her, "I feel like I fell asleep in the middle of a movie about my life… then woke up during the credits. And because I missed everything, nothing makes sense."

"You did exactly that," she replied. "It's his nap time. Come inside – I'll put him down then we can talk about whatever you want."

Conner stepped into the house and they began to walk down the hall. Karla waved her free paw in the air – the front door slammed shut as they took the stairs to the second floor. She casually said, "Now you understand what I went through – waking up and everything is different. You're probably the only one I know that can understand what I had to endure. Awful, isn't it?" At the top of the steps, she turned right and headed to the far end of the hall. The raccoon noted a child safety gate fastened to the banister at the top of the stairs. There were a few toys strewn about the hallway but the house was otherwise immaculate.

"I'm not much of the motherly type so," she trailed off, carefully stepping over Fischer Price gizmos and gadgets so as not to stumble. "I feel _blessed_ that Stephan made me this way." She approached the bed and placed him square at the center of the mattress. She leaned forward and kissed the child's forehead then moved over to a nearby window and drew the blinds. Sitting on the sill was a baby monitor. She switched it on then placed the discrete wireless headset into her ear. She waved to the toddler and offered a soft smile. "See you in a bit, Donnie. Love you." She waited for his response then stepped out of his room, drawing the door shut behind herself.

Out in the hallway, she turned to Conner and placed her paws on either side of his face. "Now, let me get a good look at you." She looked him over then brushed her nose against his. "I thought you were dead, y'know. Your parents were a wreck and your father, having lost his parents first then his son… he was real quiet. He didn't smile anymore; he didn't speak very much at the time… he just grew quiet and sullen. Very distant." She paused then lifted her head and smiled. "You're beautiful, Conner. You grew into an even more attractive young man. Very good."

"I… I guess I'm still in shock, too… I don't know but it really feels like I woke up in an alternative dimension. Everything has changed – you're _married_ to… well… to Winthrop." His facial expression changed, offering her a sarcastic grin. "So, no more love triangle between us, huh?"

"Speaking of our short-lived triangle," said Karla, releasing either side of his muzzle. "Dawn is still alive but no one has heard from her in three years. At first, I really held it against her. I mean…" She trailed off for a moment then took his paw and led him down the hall away from Donovan's room. "I really liked you since the first time I laid eyes on you… and I resented her, because you guys were supposed to be an item… and she wasn't even around to avenge your death. But your mother and I had words about it… and she said Dawn did what she was supposed to do… she laid low. She was unable to offer any physical, logistical or supernatural help and so she basically got out of the way and fell back. Your mother actually defended her actions… and when things got rough…" The half-breed paused and drew in a long, slow breath. She offered Conner a sullen smile then continued. "There were two teams – my four person group was in charge of prepping the place to get blown up. When Javari and her boyfriend went down… I grabbed Winthrop and I teleported us both… Because we escaped together, we helped one another cope with the survivor's guilt. Then we both started fooling around and… I apparently boosted his ego. He came out of his shell and is a totally different person, now."

Cooper offered her a plastic smile. "I'm glad to hear you guys are in love."

Karla balked. Silvery peels of delicate feminine laughter sounded like musical notes being played from a finely tuned instrument. "We had a traditional marriage. His family showed up and because I looked like a sweet-sixteen girl, everyone gave him a great deal of man-to-man peer respect. But we married because I got knocked up. I have nothing else in this world, Conner… this isn't even my time. So I'm just here to ride out the wave… and to pray. Whoever is in charge of things down in that dome, I pray he doesn't finish collecting however many artifacts are left… at least not any time soon." She released his paw.

This time Conner was the one to draw in a slow breath. He pushed his paws together, cracking his knuckles as they walked down the hall together. He followed her down the steps and into the living room. "Karla, a guy who used to work for my father, Doctor M., is the one at the center of all this mess. And there's only _one piece left_. He already knows it's in either Europe or western Russia."

She blinked and turned back to him, locking their gaze. "Moreau is behind this? Are you _serious_? The guy commissioned by the supernatural society… _that_ is the guy who caused several supernaturals to die? _He is the one_ causing all this worldly panic? The weather changes, the heightened religious panics, and all this other crap? _HIM_? Are you kidding?"

The raccoon eyed her for a moment then shrugged. "Yeah. I didn't know you guys commissioned him… what for?"

"We were trying to gather these artifacts so that we could keep them from the mortal population. Sire later changed allegiance and wanted the artifacts for himself. At the time, I was all for it, but… things are different now. I mean I have a kid… I don't exactly want the world to end. Little Donnie doesn't deserve that. He's not even three, yet."

"Karla," Conner folded his arms. "I need you. I can't find this thing and stop Moreau alone. I need you – before I met you, I didn't believe in all this supernatural stuff. But it's apparently real. And some of this stuff is way over my head. I need you."

She face-faulted with a sigh. "I've got a different set of responsibilities now, Conner… I'm a mother… and, I just… I age. I've learned that I'm not immortal; maybe it's because I'm a clone… maybe it's because my original body wasn't immortal… just supernatural in other ways. I must have thought I was immortal because, at first, I didn't know I was a clone in the modern age. I learned that stuff later on. I _can_ die. I _can_ age. So I made a pretty little life for myself, Conner… I don't want to lose that."

"Without you, this guy is going to find that last artifact, whatever it is… and he's going to hurt _everyone_. This affects your son, too. This affects your husband, the man you married – the love of your life. He has a job making good money but if the world changes dramatically, this pretty little life you've made for yourself is going to disappear."

She placed her paws upon his shoulders and gave him a shove. Conner slumped onto the sofa, looking up at her. She began pacing back and forth on the living room carpet. "First of all, Winthrop is a middle-aged man. Do you know my _real_ age? My _physical_ real age? I was about four or five when I went into suspended animation. I never had a childhood – I was implanted with memories but my pregnant mind became fat full of _facts_ and I learned that I was a clone. It's only been three more years… Sure, I look about eighteen now… but my _husband_ is a middle-aged man. Yes, I care for him and I'll stay married to him… but please don't refer to him as the 'love of my life'. At least not yet. Christ." She ran her paws up through her wavy blond hair. "He comes home, he smiles and puts his arms around me from behind while I'm making dinner. He kisses my cheek. _Not my neck_ but my _cheek_. I _do_ get sex on a regular basis – it wouldn't matter if he was eighty-five, I can give _any_ man a hard on… but he doesn't _initiate_ it – a woman likes to feel needed and desired, Conner. She likes when a man shows interest in her and places his hands upon her hips and…" She trailed off and a slow grin spread across her muzzle. "And pushes her up against the wall and kisses her passionately. She likes when a man runs his fingers through her hair then cups the back of her head and pulls her to his lips and whispers his hot breath into her ear about how much he desires her."

Conner lifted his paws, as if cautiously. "I get you, but I'm just trying to say… you worked hard for this lifestyle and there's no reason it should all turn to dust because of one crazy dude. If you help me find the artifact, I can use it to lure that guy out of hiding… then I'll trace his trail back to his underwater dome and personally kill him. …Unless, of course, you already know the location of this place… if so, lay it on me."

"I don't, and if I did… I'd definitely _lay it on you_, Conner. And, if you must know, the reason Winthrop isn't passionate with me anymore is because he doesn't love _me_ either. At least, I don't think so… I'm pretty sure he's still in love with your mother. At the very least, he's in love with the _idea_ of being in love. I know that's awkward but… how do you think _I_ must feel? I know he's happy – I'm his trophy piece of ass… but when it comes time to be intimate, he's not an intimate person. He used to be shy and it was adorable… but now he's a little surer of himself and sometimes he wants me to be more like his ex-boss. It's frustrating and as happy as this home looks on the outside, it's not totally picture perfect. Don't get me wrong, it's _nice_ but… it's _not_ picture perfect."

"Okay, well… if it makes you feel any better about yourself, I _am_ a _tiny_ bit jealous that Winthrop wound up with the hot girl. But I'm equally interested in finding Dawn, too. Besides, she's a logistical powerhouse in my opinion. I'd need her help, too."

"Jealous huh?" She turned back to the sofa with a devious grin, placing her paw upon the side of his face. "I'm not going to lie to you, Conner… I'm _very_ flattered to hear you tell me that you're jealous. I appreciate your honesty. Had I not thought you to be dead, maybe things would have been different for me. Maybe. Either way, Winthrop is a good provider and he makes a good father. I'm willing to help you but I want to speak with him, first. Who knows, maybe he'll want to help – we'll have to make arrangements for the baby."

"I appreciate it." He smiled inwardly and shrugged. "I'm glad you guys lived – that was one bit of good news when I woke up."

Rather suddenly, Karla dropped onto his lap, her knees on either side of his, straddling his thighs. "Oh, and just so you know… It could have been _this good_ between us. It could have been intense, night after night. That could have been _your_ son in there – I'd have given you that… so don't forget it." She lifted her paws once more to either side of his face and kissed him with an intense passion. Karla could feel his body react and respond to her touch and ministrations. The feel of his squirming body excited her down in the core of her chest.

Karla broke the kiss and gave him a brilliant, seductive smile. "I just wanted you to taste what you missed out on because you let yourself die. When you give up on life, you miss out on _good_ things. So do me a favor… If you're injured again, I'll _expect_ you to pull through; mind over matter." She then slid off his lap and brushed out the lay of her dress, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric. "Now, then." She lifted her paws, running her fingers back through her hair. "Now that I've gotten _that_ out of my system… we'd better track down Winthrop and Dawn so we can get started on finding that last artifact."

The raccoon lifted his fingers to his lips then tightened his jaw and nodded quietly. "Yeah, that's uh… a good plan." He afforded her with an awkward smile then lowered his paws to his pants, adjusting them before standing up. He blushed brightly and lifted his eyes. "There's… a moist spot on the front of my…" He continued to brush his paw over the front of his trousers.

Karla smirked deviously. "Once a bad girl, _always_ a bad girl. But you're right… no more love triangle. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted." She turned to walk away. Her tail swayed back and forth. It brushed the hem of her skirt up just enough to let him see a _hint_ of the white fur upon her backside. His eyes widened with the stark realization that she wasn't wearing panties. The felox smiled over her shoulder at him then reached for a house phone mounted to the wall. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number. A few seconds later, she said, "Honey, you'd better come home early… you're _never_ going to believe who came over to visit. Do yourself a favor – you know all those vacation days you've accrued? Now might be a good time to cash in on them."

* * *

A/N: _Okay! Karla is still… Karla! But married to Winthrop with a kid? Holy smokes – I guess the nerdy nice guys don't finish last anymore! He scored "The Hot Chick". Go Winthrop! And we find out that she's genetically engineered to bear the perfect child in record time! So, Panda King DOES feel guilty, even after all these years… and hearing Conner talk so highly caused him to admit something that Conner did NOT need to hear so shortly after finding out that his family is missing and presumed DEAD. _

_Have mercy! Okay – now that I've gotten everything out of the way… We have only a few short things left to achieve… First, Conner needs to get his strength back. Second, they need to find Dawn. Third, they need to figure out what this last artifact is then they gotta track it down… and finally, they gotta get it before the bad guys do! After three years of searching, Doctor M. has one hell of a head start! _

_Sorry for the lack of explosions in this chapter, but things will get better soon enough. _

_It's been three years for Conner. A few things have changed but not everything. Europe is in the middle of another technology boom. Karla now looks about eighteen finally… Conner fits his father's clothes and feels honored to wear them…I'm recreating a foundation real quick… then everything will hit the fan all at once. You'll just have to wait and see – it won't be much longer. Let's focus on finding Dawn and that artifact, first! _

_See you soon – thanks for reading!_

_-Kit_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter -20-

_The following night…_

**Sweat glistened on Conner's brow.** The fur of his chest was matted and mashed down, damp from exertion. His tongue passed over his lips. His right paw lifted; he pushed the cloud-gray strands of hair away from his face, using the backside of his left to rub the sweat from his eyes. "My body aches," he murmured in a tired tone. "You really know how to wear a guy out, you know that?"

Karla grinned and licked her lips with a mirthful smile. "Really? That's too bad – I'm just warming up. We're not finished until I'm _fully_ _satisfied_." She ran her paws back through the wild, wavy locks of canary that floated and danced about her head like a halo. She waggled her brows in a flirtatious way. "Don't worry – if we keep having sessions like this one… your endurance will return in _no time_. It's been great for me – but I_ really_ want to know how _you_ feel."

"You're intense," he admitted. "I won't lie – it feels _really_ good to let loose like this after so long. Endorphin overload, you know?" The adrenaline rush brought him as much pleasure as her actions. He had to admit, she was incredibly talented for just such an occasion as this one. Regardless of the muscle burn, his body was equally tingling in a good way from her help and her abilities.

She passed him his balled up shirt. He took it from her and rubbed down the front of his chest. He then turned the shirt over and used the dry side to wipe his face. "We really should do this more often."

"You know I'm only doing this for _you_, Conner. I'm glad this makes you happy." She grinned at him and reached a paw outward, snatching his shirt back. "Don't get it saturated with sweat, ya' goober. You'll need it later, for when we're done with our little 'session'." A grin was offered to him then she tossed the shirt away. It landed on the floor not too far away from the pair. "At least you're man enough to admit how good I am."

"Oh, you're _good_ all right," he said with a soft chuckle. "Best I've ever had with this sort of thing."

"With all the grunting and groaning sounds you keep making… well, let's just say I have to wonder if this situation _sounds_ just as bad as it _looks_." A sly, relaxed grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle. She rubbed her palms together then lifted them in display. "I'm pretty good with my hands aren't I? Enough to get _you_ wound up, anyhow."

"Yeah, I admit… you've got me all riled up, Karla. What can I say?" he offered a somewhat nervous sounding chuckle. "You're amazing."

A dainty little giggle was her reply. She waggled her brows suggestively. "I am, aren't I?"

He clinched the golden cane in his right paw, lifting it back to a ready position. "I'm ready for round four." Conner gave a quick tug at the drawstring that dangled over the front of his sweatpants. He lifted his bare right foot from the padded floor then switched, lifting his left shoeless foot. After a comfortable stretch, he nodded. "Let's get this over with."

"My pleasure," she murmured. "Always remember the mantra of the strong-willed and the survivors, '_Trample the weak and hurdle the dead_,' sweetheart." Karla lifted her paws. The carnation pink branding upon her palms began to glow. A series of outdoor toys, from wiffleballs and plastic bats all the way to Frisbees and Fischer Price puzzle blocks began to sail towards the raccoon. Karla kept her paws outstretched, telekineticly controlling the various multiple objects all at once.

Conner leapt from the mat, flipping through the first wave. He twirled his cane, knocking another object from the air while dropping into a roll to evade two other objects that came at his head. He moved to his feet gracefully then turned about just in time to see five objects rushing for him.

The tired raccoon gritted his teeth and swung clumsily with his cane, still off balance. He stepped into the swing, following through by planting his feet firmly on the floor to regain his balance. The cane in his paw struck all the items at once and flashed brightly. To his surprise, the plastic bat stuck to his cane while the other objects went flying further across the room than they should have.

Karla dropped her arms and tilted her head in confusion. The wiffleball bat was wrapped around his cane, not bent by force but _melted_ from heat. Conner paused, bringing the cane up to inspect it. "Did you see the flash of light?"

"I did," she replied. "Is that toy _melted_ to your cane?"

"I… I think so." He cautiously brought his left paw up to the plastic, attempting to peel it away from the bat. The plastic was bubbled up and the object needed to be _peeled_ away. But something else was weird. He looked down at the metallic cane then lifted his eyes, gazing back at her. "It's cold to the touch. How is _that_ possible?"

"You melted the toy bat by swatting it out of the air but seconds later the cane is _cold_ to the touch? Now _that_ is bizarre."

"Yeah," he murmured. "No kidding." Conner walked across the practice mat and lifted one of the other random objects she was using to train him. "You guys own a veritable toy chest worth of garage-sale trinkets." He knelt down and lifted a baseball glove that had a scorch mark on the front. "This has never happened before. I wonder what I did differently."

"Would you like to try again to see if you can reproduce the same result?"

"Give me a minute – I need a breather," he murmured. Conner sat down on the soft basement floor with a groan. "Ngh, geeze… yeah, definitely give me a bit. I've not worked out this hard in ages."

"You poor dear – you're going to _really_ ache tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know…" He afforded the young-looking woman with a soft smile. "I appreciate you letting me utilize your basement as a practice arena. Not to mention all these kid toys. I feel bad about beating up your kid's belongings." He lifted a paw to her, index finger extended. "I'd rather that I got put into stasis… at least then my muscles wouldn't have deteriorated."

"Complaining does nothing but waste energy. Besides, he doesn't even play with the plastic baseball toys; the wooden blocks are beneath him and so he ignores them as well." She approached him, paws upon her hips. "Did swinging the cane that last time somehow sap your energy? You look pretty run down all of a sudden."

"I don't know."

"You mentioned something else you learned to do with that thing but you never showed me." Her paws slid down, coming to her sides. She gave a very light tug at the figure-conforming tights, halter-top and leotard she wore. Karla lowered to one knee before him. "We can always continue this later on, you know. You've been at this for quite some time, now. Winnie should be home any time now, actually."

"You said he's 'different' these days? How so?"

"I boosted his ego, "she murmured. "He's really come out of his shell – no longer the shy little geeky type. He doesn't even wear suspenders anymore. I suppose either my cooking or my _body_ helps him to keep his pants 'up' without a belt or those suspenders these days. You won't even recognize him. He's more playful, open minded, witty, and forward than before."

"Good, he can help us."

"Conner," she muttered with a shake of her head… "Even the best pussy on the planet can't make a complete pussy become courageous. Now you're talking about a pipedream – a miracle. He won't help us. When he came within seconds of death and saw everyone else dropping like flies… his sense of self preservation kicked in… you'll never get him back in that dome."

"Why'd he go the first time?"

The first sentence was said spitefully. "To impress your mother." Karla sighed and shrugged. "Now she's gone – he's still having nightmares about that place. Me? I put it out of my mind… but it's still on his. Often. Needless to say, if you propose the idea to him, he'll most likely turn ten shades of white. _Some_ things are destined _never_ to change. He's still a wimp. You saw him at his bravest, which he now considers as his 'heyday'. He's a father now and is far more comfortable in that role, with his house and his family car and his nine-to-five job. Trust me, I'm happy he's changed for the better… but I have no delusions of grandeur and I certainly don't expect to see my husband ready to play Rambo with a ragtag group who wants to try and save the world."

His reply remained simple and concise. "What about you?"

"So long as I can find a sitter, I suppose I'll go with you. After all… if you die, which I fully expect, I can always just teleport back to safety _again_. Don't think I don't have confidence in you. I just expect this to be _way_ over your head, Conner."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. What makes you think I won't survive? I have you with me – you're certifiably badass, throwing things, people, stopping bullets, turning them around and throwing them back at people… that's some wild stuff."

She smirked. "You never met the guy but… I couldn't even do anything more than nod and smile for Sire… his power was so awesome, it was impossible to deny his command." She licked her lips and settled back on her haunches, resting her paws on the one knee that she'd drawn to her chest. Her other leg was extended across the matted floor. "He died. I died. Donovan died. Nathanial Carrington died; some 'Reaper' _he_ turned out to be – the idiot went to go and meet the _real_ reaper so far as I'm concerned. Kalen is missing. Your family is presumed dead. I don't mean to sound heartless, here… but face the facts. The world's powerhouse team of supernatural beings didn't make it – how could you expect the survival of your family? They probably _are_ dead. And you're prepping yourself to join them. Don't drag down anyone else, Conner. No one else needs to die, too. But… I owe you my help since your family was kind enough to rescue me from the stasis chamber. Listen to me," she told him, pausing for a moment to take a rather slow, drawn out breath. "This guy, Doctor M., has a huge body count – mortals, supernatural beings; it doesn't matter to him because he's set up to fight off any and all opposition. He's well prepared and he's intelligent. He's played us all along. He played your mother and father in the vault by faking his death. This man he's hired… Jasper Cunningham… that man is quite impressive. I could take him down if necessary and I managed to render him unconscious back in Tampa… but I hit him with hundreds of pounds worth of debris before it even fazed him. What I'm trying to say is…"

"Shut up." Conner lifted his paws. "You're just rattling on-and-on, here. I could give a damn about your inability to believe. Let me just be blunt for a second – I'm using you. I need your help to train then I need your help to find the artifact. Finally, I'll enquire for your help one last time so I can get around on that underwater city. _You_ used just about everyone but Winthrop – so I doubt you'll hold it against me. I'm ready for this. But in the end, when everything is said and done, I am not doing this for _you_, okay? I'm doing it for _me_. So, in the end, I don't _care_ about your soccer-mom banter of how I'll just drag people down to their death and, blah, blah, blah. I'm going to assemble a team, get this last piece, go to this dome and kick the _shit_ out of this guy, personally."

A slow grin began to form at the corner of her maw, broadening into a respectful smile. "That was pretty hot… hearing you take charge, like that. There's just one detail you're missing… let's say you do find this artifact and you do decide to go out to the dome and sink it… provided that you could find its exact location again… how the hell do you plan on getting out to it?"

Young Cooper stood up and tilted his head. He left his cane on the ground and gazed down at her. "D'mitri owns a yacht. My father owns a frigate… the pirate ship he took from Bloodbath Bay to Kane Island before I was born… that frigate was put into dry dock and can be made sea-ready in a short period of time if need be. Even if I couldn't get my paws on those two vessels, I'm the son of the unofficial richest man in the world. I'll just use my cane on the front door of the vault, get what I need and buy an _aircraft carrier_. Then we'll drop depth charges on the dome repeatedly until either I'm satisfied or until the bodies of his soldiers float to the surface."

She blinked at him, impressed with the seriousness of his tone and words. "Sounds to me like you have more of an idea about what to do than a real plan."

"I have no reason to come up with an official plan," he murmured in reply. "That's why I'm looking for Dawn. I leave the planning up to her – it works better that way. Don't get me wrong… I know that place is dangerous. I have nothing left to lose. If I die, I get to go and be with my family. Hell, I've already died once – it was pretty anti-climatic. The very next thing I remember is waking up with a catheter tube in my crotch and a bunch of freakin' suction cups all over me. They shaved patches of my fur to get'em stuck to my skin. That was misery. I'm ready – I have _nothing else_ to lose, right now." He lifted a paw and focused his energy. The cane, as before at Penelope's house, trembled for a second or two then lifted from the ground. The golden staff came faithfully to his palm.

Karla opened her muzzle to say something but, at first, nothing came to mind. She blinked, closed her maw then tilted her head slightly. "Now _that_ is interesting – aside from myself, I've met no other being in either of my lifetimes who had the ability to control an object in such a way."

"And you still haven't met such a being," he said. "This is apparently a _magnetic_ display." His ears perked, hearing a door open then shut. Footfalls on the wooden basement steps caused them both to glance back across the room just as Winthrop emerged from the staircase.

"Good grief," said the weasel. "Conner Cooper! I can't believe you actually woke up! I'll be honest, not only is it a relief – it's worth having come home early to see you awake… you've really changed…" He had a curious but bright look upon his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it home last night…"

Karla smirked. "That's why, when you finally got home last night, after Conner left, I told you I wouldn't tell you the surprise… you'd just have to _see_ for yourself."

He nodded in agreement and glanced back at Cooper. "I never thought I'd see you walking and talking ever again. I'm glad you're back, kiddo."

Like Karla warned earlier on, Winthrop was different than before. His shy demeanor and quiet, nervous voice were a thing of the past. Instead of suspenders, he wore a designer shirt with the top two buttons unfastened. A tuft of chest fur poked out below the base of his throat and his hair was longer and elegantly styled. He wore a fancy watch and swanky shoes. He approached his wife from behind, closing his arms around her waist. "Hey hon," he murmured against the side of her neck, offering a kiss beneath her jaw line.

"How was work?" she asked, reaching a paw back to pat his forehead.

"Par for the course," he returned with a chuckle. "So Donnie is asleep, already?"

"Yeah, he's in bed." She reached into the front of her leotard, drawing a remote control from her cleavage. "Conner and I were going to practice a bit more then we'd like to sit down with you and talk about a few things. Apparently Conner has returned just in time to finish this mess that we were involved in a few years ago."

"All right – sounds good but there's still no way of knowing whether or not his parents simply took the place out and went up with the flames," he lifted his head and looked to Conner, adding, "No offence intended by the way I worded that, bud. But no one can even find the damn place and it's been quiet, save the nasty weather patterns."

"None taken." Conner folded his arms. "If we hunt it down and all we find is a flooded hull, I'll be happy."

Karla pointed the remote towards the far wall and pressed a button. Music began to play from speakers inside the walls. It was loud enough to be enjoyed in the basement but not loud enough to wake the baby, upstairs. She tapped her foot and grinned at the raccoon across from her. "This is one of the best parts about living in the modern age – music. Music in the middle ages was a boring thing. The rich had pianos and usually played with untalented, uninspired symphonies… the poor plucked and crooned to a lute and a fist-muted horn… but _this_ music really moves me." The pop beat had a positive, tempo and peppy feel.

Winthrop, standing behind her, took the shoulder straps of the halter-top she wore over the leotard. He began to tug at each shoulder strap, left then right then left again, in time with the beat of the music. Her bust moved in time with the tempo causing her eyes to roll. After a moment, Karla muttered, "They're _not_ marionettes, Winnie."

"Oh, let me have my fun," he mused.

Conner cocked a brow then his head. "You're right, Karla. He _has_ changed in the last three years."

Winthrop glanced over his wife's shoulder at the boy. "She's a good influence – I really suppressed my personality until we got close. I actually have some self-confidence, now. And for the people who still don't accept me… _screw'em_!"

The raccoon opened his muzzle to say something but had nothing to offer. He blinked again then shook his head slowly. "Actually, I think I'm done with working out for the time being. I even feel too tired to do my exercises. I think I'm just going to do some meditation then head home."

"Nonsense," said Winthrop, lifting his paws from Karla's shoulder straps. "It's late and something tells me you didn't drive over… why not stay in the guest room. Your girlfriend, Dawn, can stay as well! Speaking of Dawn, where is she?"

A sigh passed the boy's lips. "We haven't found her, yet. I found you first because you're in the white pages and Penelope is resourceful. I appreciate you letting me stay, though. I'm going to call her and let her know I'm not going to be going back over there, this evening."

"By the way," Winthrop continued. "If you're too tired to do evening exercises, I have something that may help. I'm sure you really need to get back in shape after sleeping for so long… I've got something in the closet that helped _me_ get into shape. I'll let you borrow it – make sure you use the thing in your downtime." He swatted Karla on the rump then walked across the basement and opened a closet door.

Karla and Conner watched in silent interest as the weasel dug through the stack of boxes within. She turned the music off and folded her arms. After only a few minutes, Winthrop emerged with a medium box in his arms. He approached Conner and passed it to the teenager.

"What's all this?" asked the youth.

"It's cheating," replied Winthrop with a grin. "You place these suction cups on your arms, abs, chest, back, thighs, calves, and shoulders. Then you take out the weighed vest and put it on. There are motorized components in each of the suctioned thing-a-ma-bobs… there's a small motorized section of the vest… You wear this crap in your downtime and let it run – either by battery or by plugging it into the wall… It sends small little vibrating pulses into your muscles and, in return, your muscles will twitch from the irritation. Before long, your muscle tissue density increases. They stimulate your muscles while you're at rest. It may be cheating, but it works."

Karla nodded in agreement. "It's faster than working out the old fashion way for two months. We might not even _have_ two months."

Conner took the box into his arms then lowered to one knee, going through the contents. "I'm willing to try _anything_ at this point. My body aches just from taking a flight of stairs – I'm whipped." He paused, then, "Is this how you worked yourself away from your old shy persona?"

The older gentleman offered a firm nod. "I'm in the best shape of my life. While it sucks that I missed out on a lot of fun opportunities because my youth is gone, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy life NOW. I've got a hot wife, a kid, a great house and a great job and a fast car… if only my past peers could see me now. Use this thing all you want," he told the teenager. He then abruptly changed topic. "So if Dawn isn't with you, she must still be in hiding. I figured that she would have contacted you as soon as you woke."

"Why would she?"

"She used to visit you, back when I used to come by – for a while, I was trying to get over a few past hang ups. I decided to stop by once a week at random…" He shrugged, drawing his left paw outwards as he spoke. "At least two thirds of the time she'd already be in your room. I stopped going and some part of me figured that she was _still_ going."

"I'm glad to know you guys cared," he said, stowing his staff in the harness strapped against his back. "But I've not heard anything about her save for the possibility that she's safe. When was it that you last seen her?"

"About two and a half years ago."

Conner deadpanned at the weasel. "Okay, so for the first six months, you guys came to visit… a lot changes with time. While I'm surprised either one of you went _that_ long, it sounds stupid to think that she'd still be coming around after an additional two and a half more years. That's just dumb."

"I think she loved you, kiddo." Winthrop shrugged. "Another one that I saw on occasion… there was a female tigress. A few times I saw her wearing jeans, a t-shirt and dirty, scuffy shoes… then, sometimes, she'd show up wearing a nice blouse, a pair of dress slacks and nice accessories."

"Two different tigresses," said Conner. "If you're talking about who I think you're talking about… the one who was dressed down was Keri. The one who was dressed up was Keri's twin sister, Debbie Jean. If I can find those two, we could use their help in finishing this whole damn situation."

Winthrop shrugged. "I'll be honest I have no desire to fight for my life in an underwater theme park – and that's not to say that your parents didn't take it down already, three years ago."

"Look, I'm being a realist here… While nothing would make me happier, the fact remains that if it was destroyed, there would be proof," said Conner. "No, the proprietor is continuing to pay off the right people in order to keep the location a secret. That means he's still around and so is that stupid underwater dome. I aim to destroy it, myself. I'll need a team."

Winthrop approached Conner again and leaned forward, looking at the boy on his knee. The weasel used his foot to push the exercising box to the side. He placed his paws on his hips and glared at the raccoon. "In the early two-thousands, the United States sent a team of SEALS to take it down. Their bodies were deposited on the beach of a nearby island. They're trained, certified bad-asses. But they got their _asses_ handed to them. Now they're no more. Group after group went up against Moreau's various forts – one of which was on your father's island. No one ever gets away unscathed unless there is a miracle involved." He lowered to one knee, coming down to Conner's level. "Listen, bud… I know you want to avenge your family because this is so new and fresh for you… but _they_ went there to avenge _you_… and they disappeared. And your mother and father are quite a team… they were in their heyday. Their abilities surpassed anything you have to offer; throw in the talent of your sister… and those three SHOULD have been unstoppable. But now they're long gone. Stop trying to chase after their ghost else you'll join them in an early grave."

"I have an advantage," said Conner with a smirk. "I'm dead to the world so I have stealth."

"How much longer will that last?" asked Winthrop with a shake of his head. "You left the hospital after three years? If you left without saying anything, which is most likely, knowing you and your family, then news of that is undoubtedly going to get out. In the end, this jerkwad, Doctor M., probably already knows and is planning for you to show up."

"I'm going to find the artifact he's looking for," said Conner. "When I get it, I'm going to wave it around and wait for Doctor M to come and take the bait. When he's not expecting it, I'm going to sweep in and take him out."

"Cute, but things don't work that way," replied the weasel with a chuckle. "What's your _real_ plan?"

"I've learned that if he finds the last artifact, bad stuff will happen for everyone save the one who holds the combined pile of old junk stuff. If he's as power hungry as I think, he'll rush in and we'll have'em. Then he'll make a mistake and I'll simply capitalize on it."

"Dangerous idea."

Conner shrugged. "Okay, I'll be upstairs in a moment – I just want to call Penelope to let her know I'm staying here."

Karla patted the side of the teen's cheek and motioned to a house phone on the back wall. She then turned to Winthrop and pointed towards the stairs. The two of them left Conner alone in the basement.

Across the room, he lifted the phone from the hook and dialed his godmother's number by memory. After the third ring, she picked up on the other end. "Hey, it's me," he told her, adding, "I think I'm going to pick up a pre-pay cell phone soon. I'll call you from it with the number. Anyhow, I'm going to stay here, tonight. By the way…" He cleared his throat as if to give himself a reason for trailing off into silence. After a short pause, he told her, "I'm glad you suggested that I bring the cane with me, when I came back here this morning I practiced with it. Then, just a bit ago, something happened… I learned a new trick with it but it's _really_ rather draining."

"You'll have to tell me all about it," replied the female mouse on the other end of the line. "I, personally, still have trouble getting over the fact that a geeky little guy like Winthrop wound up with the 'mega-babe'. We geeky people have to stick together – Winthrop is ruining the code for geeks everywhere."

"He's not a geek anymore," said Conner. "He doesn't stammer, he doesn't bite his nails anymore… he talks fluidly and is somewhere between 'confident' and 'egotistical'. At the very least, he's become quite sure of himself. At the core, though, he's still Winthrop… I don't think he likes the idea of me going after Moreau – but there aren't many people out there who would be enthusiastic about running head-first into a suicide mission."

"Plus, didn't you tell me last night about how he has a kid, now? Oh, by the way, how did your training session go with Karla?"

"I'm wiped out." He then changed the subject. "Winthrop gave me something to help me get my muscle mass back. It's these little vibrating things that you attach to your abs, arms and legs… they vibrate your muscles with little jolting pulses so that the muscles are stimulated even while you're at rest. Do you know anything about that kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, it's a feasible alternative." Penelope drew in a slow breath then told him, "Bentley has a machine that does the same thing but it's in storage… see, when several of the discs in his lower lumbar were damaged, he suffered nerve damage. Some of those nerves were pinched between the discs. The only way to provide relief was to stimulate muscle mass into expanding… that took some of the pressure off by using muscle mass to separate the discs in his back just enough that they wouldn't pinch the nerves. He couldn't do squats or anything so there was no other way to work his lower body… it uses electronic impulses to work your muscles – a little more direct and faster acting than simple vibration stimulus. It's exponentially faster and more reliable."

"What's the catch?"

"Acupuncture," she murmured. "The acupuncture needles act as probes with which to deliver the current. One hour of use is equal to about a ten-hour workout. The downside is that you'll be aching afterwards. Just between us, he used medical steroids in order to increase his body's tolerance in order to endure longer sessions. …But don't go getting any ideas. Without proper medical supervision, steroids can be dangerous – they have interesting side effects."

"I thought the steroids, themselves, were what caused people to bulk up?"

"A common misnomer," replied Penelope over the phone. "Steroid use, by itself, doesn't do anything. Once it's taken, it increases the body's tolerance in order to help the user work out. For example, it's injected into a patient with a bad back so that they can be mobile without feeling partially cripple. Once they're mobile, their back muscles naturally return to take the brunt of the stress when walking. That, in turn, helps them in the long run by recovering after injuring their back to begin with. So people obsessed with bulking up go out of their way to abuse steroids."

"Oh. Okay, I understand now… Anyhow, have you heard anything about Dawn?"

"No." Penelope abruptly changed gears. "I was surfing the net and found you a store, local to where you are right now, that carries a charger for your model of cell phone. Don't worry about pre-pay, just contact the cellular provider and reactivate your phone. You still have the family credit card with your name on it, right? The one your mother gave you for emergencies?"

"Yeah, I have it. Ironically, it doesn't expire until this upcoming August. Lucky me, huh?"

"Lucky you, babe. Okay, do you have something to write on? I'll give you the address now."

"I'll give you Winthrop's cell; send it to him in a text message. I'll have one of them drive me over in the morning." He picked up one of his shoes from the floor by the wall then began to root through the sock inside of it.

"Okay, so you actually saw him, today?"

"Yeah – he stayed out late last night, because of some work deadline… but he came home early tonight. I think Karla put the baby down at around seven or eight and then he showed up around twenty minutes ago. With him here, I feel comfortable enough to stay the night."

"You really don't trust Karla, do you? No wonder you came back here last night on the last train of the evening. What's his cell number?" She paused and Conner rattled it off to her from the business card he had put into his sock, earlier that morning. Afterwards, Penelope told him, "I want you to get some rest. Know that I love you, Conner. Your parents would be really proud of you."

"They might still have the chance to show it." He smiled to himself. It brightened his tone of voice when he spoke again. "I love you too. Hey… I'll do my best to find _everyone_. We'll both get our loved ones back, right? And even if it's too late… we still have one another. Anyhow, thanks for researching the phone charger problem for me… I actually have it in my overnight bag, so I'll try it out at the store to make sure it works. I'll take you up on the offer to use Bentley's workout machine sometime this week. For now, I'll use Winthrop's little '_As Seen On TV_' device. It can't hurt." He peered out the window well, straight up into the night sky. The moon was slightly more than half-full.

"No, it won't hurt you at all." She then said, "G'night, hon. Sleep well. And don't let Karla weird you out."

"I won't," he returned with a chuckle before hanging up the phone.

* * *

_The next morning…_ Tuesday, May 8th 2029

**"I think this is the one,"** said Winthrop. He handed the plastic packaged cellular charger to Conner who flipped it over and read the back label. After a moment of silence, the teenager nodded in decisive reply. They walked up to the counter together.

"I'm glad you guys are open today." Conner withdrew his older cell phone and asked the clerk, "Can I try this out to make sure it works?"

"This is retail – just because today is World War Two Victory Day doesn't mean anything, retail stores are still open." The clerk tilted her head then shook it slowly. "Usually we don't do that but," the lady behind the register trailed off with a shrug. "You're going to open it _anyway_… and if it doesn't work, you'll just wind up returning it with the packaging ripped apart, right? …So here." She took the sealed container from him and used a box cutter to make a slit in the plastic front. She withdrew the charger after a slight struggle with the various zip-tie elements and other anti-theft parts of the package's design. Finally, she passed him the charger.

The raccoon plugged it into the bottom of his phone and handed her the cord, which she plugged into an outlet near the register. The phone began its boot process and, after a moment, showed the battery-charging display on the screen. Conner turned to Winthrop with a grin and a nod. He then said to the lady, "We'll take it," and passed her his credit card and National ID card. She verified his birth date then ran the card.

Conner watched nervously, hoping the card was still good. To his palpable relief, the transaction was approved. She printed a receipt and handed him the paper copy, along with the cord of his new charger.

Winthrop tilted his head. "You guys still use paper receipts?"

"Yeah," replied the clerk. "But we're going to be changing over soon, just like everyone else." She waved to Conner in a flirtatious way. "Take care – thanks for coming." Her eyes raked over his form and her smile broadened. In response, Conner offered a slight smile of his own then headed for the exit with Winthrop following. They walked across the parking lot to the weasel's Infinity sedan and both sank down into the comfortable soft leather seating.

"She had eyes for you, Conner."

The raccoon shrugged. "Yeah – she was cute but… There's no point in getting involved with her. Looks aren't everything."

"Yeah but looks don't hurt, either." The weasel started the engine then reached down to a panel built into the center consol. He opened it and held his palm out expectantly to Conner. "Give me the other end of the cord." He took the end from Conner and plugged it into a built-in power socket. Conner's phone resumed its charging status.

The phone's logo flashed twice then disappeared completely. A strange icon took up the center of his touch screen. It was a magenta photo-shopped version of his father's infamous Cooper Clan logo. The clipart icon brightened then faded, brightened again and repeated, as though it was pulsing. He blinked in confusion.

After several seconds, the screen changed to a text-based message.

_Dear Conner,_

_I don't want you to think I've given up on you. We were only close for a short time but… I feel like we had a true connection. I once told you, after losing everything I had, that I didn't know what I'd do if I lost you, too. I learned that the answer was a simple one… I'll carry on with a heavy heart. _

_I broke into the hospital one night after visiting hours… I stayed by your side the whole night, listening to the rhythmic cadence of your heart monitor. I cried. I know we only dated for a short time… less than a full month… but you really had a profound effect on me. I know we never said this to one another but… I love you._'

He scrolled down the message by dragging his finger along the touch screen interface. It continued. '_Conner, your prognosis is bad… your charts say that the likelihood of you waking up is too small of a number even for someone the likes of Javari Ahma to bother calculating. You are apparently brain dead. I may never see you awake ever again. I have to come to terms with the horrible fact that I'll never look into your eyes, hear your voice or be kissed by you. However, I'm holding out hope – as you can now probably tell, I've reprogrammed your cell phone. God I hope you find this with your belongings should you ever awaken. I'm taking a huge risk by enabling this phone to connect to my server… if anyone else gets their paws on it… they could use it to find ME… and that would be bad. But it's a risk I'm willing to take if it means getting to see you again. Conner, this phone will act as a transponder until such a time as I'm able to undo the reprogramming in person. I will always hold you dear in my heart even if I never see you again. I know you'll probably never read this message anyhow… so I'm rambling on because I wanted to get this stuff off of my chest. I mean, shoot, I never even got to say goodbye to you. _

_Sometimes, I close my eyes and I watch helplessly as you drop to the ground all over again. It tears me apart to think about it. As much as I would joke about enjoying your vulnerable side, when I watched you drop to your knees that day… I felt as though I was watching my idol crumble. I was devastated. I felt as frail and mortal and scared as a paranoid toddler. I thought you were invincible and to see you die has caused me to ponder my own mortality. I mean… Christ, I've seen you go careening through the rear windshield of that Mercedes at a hundred-and-sixty-five mile an hour. You walked away from it! I saw you deflect a bullet with your cane. I saw you cheat death repeatedly… then THIS happened and… now I'm alone. I'll monitor my server – the day your phone comes online, I'll wait for it to lead you to me. You were a very optimistic man… this is my attempt of honoring your memory… maybe I can be optimistic, too. God, I hope so. The sun ever rises on the 'morrow. There's little we can do but live for today, and trust that other days will follow. I love you._

_-Dawn_'

He swallowed back his heartache. The phone's interface changed and another icon appeared on its screen. A transponder application opened, using the internal radio receiver and global positioning hardware to tie into software written on the flash memory, which accessed the wireless Internet and connected to one of her servers. Conner looked up at Winthrop, sitting behind the wheel, and said, "We've got to find Dawn… this thing is going to take me to her."

* * *

_Six hours later…_

**The two-toned wall of concrete**, dark brown at the top and tan at the bottom, sat across the street from a beautiful old brown building. The building, interlaced with various sporadic windows on the front, was topped with four large rounded concrete objects at the top. They paired off in twos, surrounding a concrete balcony fence on the far left and far right section of the building. At first glance it resembled an archaic but beautifully architected train station. A banner above the main doors on the left side read, "The King's Theatre" and continued down Bath Street until it connected with a square-panel building of glass, five by five panels. That, in turn, melted into a much taller building, approximately ten to twelve stories high. It, too, had a great deal of windows on the front – the redbrick building was decorated with four tall pillar-like columns of windows that started at the third floor and lifted nearly to the roof.

"So this is Glasgow," Conner mused, glancing to his left. Karla straightened the lay of her business suit. Gray cloth slacks and jacket covered a violet blouse with white and black highlights. Adjacent to her, Winthrop wore black dress slacks, a matching blazer and a dark burgundy shirt with a black tie. His short, tousled hair was spiked up and the afternoon sunlight reflected in his onyx sunshades. Cooper turned from them back to the theatre. "You two really didn't need to dress up."

"This isn't dressing up," said Karla. "This is looking like we mean business. It garners respect at first glance. So, your cell phone has brought us all the way to Scotland – is she an actress, now? Does she do pantomime for a living or something?"

"Maybe the server is located here," said the raccoon hybrid with a slight shrug. He turned east, facing towards a line of buildings. Halfway down on the left side was a dominating church steeple, several blocks up the way. Conner glanced at his phone then lifted his head back to the east. The phone's display changed, showing a new waypoint marker. "No, it's this way, actually." They began walking east on Bath Street, away from the theatre. An old pub, sat in disuse on the corner. The sign had been removed but the stain in the building showed where lettering used to be. It read, 'The Griffin" faintly. The first and second floor appeared to have recent storm damage while the third and top floor appeared completely unscathed.

Conner located a street-access door on the side of the building that had a stairwell. He took it up to the fourth floor. "I'm just… following this thing." A little shake of his cellphone as if showing it to them. He stopped in front of a door with a missing number panel on the front. His ears perked, hearing Dawn's familiar sounding voice.

Muffled by the walls, he could hear her arguing with someone. "I don't care – you're being completely unacceptable! GET OUT of the HOUSE!" Her words were followed by a loud clap, punctuated by the thump of someone dropping to the ground with a groan.

Cooper blinked and reached into Karla's hair. He pulled a hairpin from behind her ear, causing the felox's luxurious locks of blond to cascade down to her mid-back. The raccoon teen snapped the hairpin into two pieces and pushed them into the first of two locks, beginning to fumble with the knob.

Karla rolled her eyes. She gripped the back of Conner's shirt in one paw and her husband's in the other. In the blink of an eye, Conner found himself on the other side of the apartment door. A studio layout room stretched about him. Over where the living room floor changed from wood panel to kitchen tile, Dawn sat unceremoniously on the ground; her left paw covered a welt on the side of her face. She glowered up at a man with a grimace on her face. "You _bastard_. Get _out_ of my _house_. Don't you _dare_ come back – we're _through_."

"You've got more issues than my Penthouse subscription – all I wanted was your goddamn attention."

"Hedonistic asshole," she retorted through clinched teeth.

He raised his voice. "_You_ brought this on yourself, Alice. You and your goddamn computers – you worship the damn things and furthermore…" He trailed off. Both Dawn and the other man stopped and turned towards the trio in front of their door. "Who the hell are you three and how did you get in my house?" he demanded.

The raccoon snarled, gritting his teeth. "Who the hell are _you_ and why are you hitting women? You sunuvabitch…" Cooper withdrew his family cane. "I'm going to ram this pole down your throat – get away from her, _right now_."

Dawn blinked in confusion. She silently mouthed the word, "Conner?" as if seeing a ghost in person for the first time.

"I really think you want to mind your own business," said the man, a lanky terrier with baggy clothing. He wore a jacket with faded army patches on the sleeves. His left paw reached to the rear of his belt, at the small of his back. The canine drew an energy pistol, aiming it at the trio by the door. "Who's it going to be, chump? Am I going to shoot at you and your friends, or am I going to have to shoot at her? Either way, if you don't leave the way you came, I'm going to start pulling this trigger."

"Hiding behind a gun like the small man you are," murmured Conner, his eyes glowing with anger. "She told you to get out of her house. I'm willing to wager I'm more welcome here than you are, so why don't _you_ take a hike."

He pointed the weapon towards Dawn, still slumped on the floor. "Alice, here, needs to learn how to keep her mouth shut. Now I'm _really_ pissed off." He began to take a step towards her with an aggressive posture.

Conner's world faded to red from the sudden increase of blood pressure. All sense of normality disappeared and his body came alive from the adrenaline. Seconds later, the intense high concluded. The world slid back into focus. He still held his cane in his right paw. All around him, everyone had their paws clamped over their ears. The gunman was clutching his right wrist. Three of his fingers were missing; his middle, ring and pinky fingers were nowhere to be found. They appeared cauterized at the first knuckle. The smoking remains of his handheld electronic weapon lay on the floor. Conner noticed, out of the corner of his eyes, that his cane was glowing but rapidly dimmed to normal coloration.

"Jesus Christ, my goddamn hand!" wheezed the man, slowly backing away. "What the hell did you just do?" he demanded in a pleading voice.

Winthrop nudged Karla, lowering his ears. "Did Conner's cane just light up when it hit the gun?"

Karla nodded and told him, "I think there was some sort of electrical interference or electrical transfer of …energy or something… It looks to me like the battery pack in the handle exploded on contact."

"Damn that was loud," murmured Winthrop. He lifted his paws to his ears again, rubbing them fitfully. "It sounded like a freakin' firecracker went off in here or something."

"Good comparison," mumbled the felox. "Glad I blinked at the right time, it was blinding as all hell. Whoever invented those idiotic contraptions should be kicked in the…"

"CONNER!" Dawn's voice cut through, drawing attention to the canine. With his good hand, he pulled out a hidden gun of substantial caliber. He pushed the slide of the magnum against his knee, cocking the slide then he pointed it directly at Cooper. "You're going to die for messing up my hand," he growled.

The _three fifty-seven_ fired like a crack of thunder. Conner fell to the floor. Everyone in the room was struck by a deafening silence. A piercing ring filled the air, like a loud tuning fork wailing in their ears, adding to the pain. Dawn scurried across the floor to the fallen Conner who lay on his side with a look of temporary confusion on his face.

She quickly patted him down, looking for a wound but couldn't find any blood. Dawn quirked her head back at her current boyfriend who appeared to be howling in agony from his knees. He cradled both of his paws to his torso then leaned forward, hunching over them protectively.

Dawn blinked, her confusion mirroring Conner's own. She then cut her gaze to the woman by the door, unable to remember her name. The felox lifted her right index finger like a mock gun then blew air across her fingernail. Dawn panned her eyes over to the weasel at the woman's side who was holding his ears again. His mouth opened and he spoke but Dawn couldn't hear his voice, only the ringing.

Reading his lips, he appeared to have said, "Nice shootin', Tex," to the attractive woman.

Karla approached the injured man. He was sobbing miserably in pain. She kicked the shattered remains of the magnum's frame away. The slide tumbled along the floor, stopping not far from the wall. She leaned down and said, "I shot yer gun out of yer hand, kiddo." He shouted something; tears streamed down his face from the pain. Karla grinned. "What was that? I can't quite hear you – I've not gotten my hearing back quite yet… I _think_ you said you're _sorry_ and you'll be _leaving_ to admit yourself to the _Emergency Room_, now. Isn't that about right?" Again, she pointed her finger at the man then moved her thumb to symbolize the hammer of a mock gun. "Bang, bang – you're dead little man. Now _scram_." She lifted her other paw and waved at him. "Ala-ka-zam, monsieur dipshit."

The man who was doubled over in agony disappeared.

"Where'd you put him?" asked Winthrop.

"On the other side of the door," she replied with a shrug. "Hopefully. I mean, I guess it would really suck if I screwed up and put him half-way into one of those walls. I can just read the tabloids now… '_Navy distills rumors of Glasgow Experiment; says no battleships were in range of Scotland at time of incident._' She grinned.

Winthrop brought a paw to his muzzle, trying not to snicker. "Maybe the city was trying to degauss the pub downstairs."

Dawn looked up from Conner then blinked at Karla. "What… did you do to him?"

"Either I put him out with the trash… Or he's just become the New Philadelphia Experiment victim."

The female raccoon shook her head quickly. "No, before that. You hurt him, somehow. What did you do?"

"I teleported the bullet to an intersecting course. In effect, he shot the gun out of his own hand at nearly point-blank range. I imagine he's going to leave you alone for a while. Who was he, anyhow, _Alice_?"

Dawn lowered her eyes with a sigh, placing her paws gently upon Conner's shoulders. "My recent boyfriend… I really have hit-or-miss luck with mates." She glanced to Cooper and added, "I'm really sorry. It's been almost three years since I last saw you. I guess you got your phone – I hope you're not upset with me."

Conner sat up, still lacking his equilibrium from having been fired at. His springtime windbreaker had a dark burn mark over his right lung from the blast of the blank gunshot. "Thanks, Karla – that was close." He turned to Dawn and drew her into his arms. "Hey, I had to come find you. I need you in my life as much as I need you in order to finish all of this mess."

The twenty-one year-old abruptly broke down into tears. "I saw you _die_ three years ago… I saw you dead to the world in that hospital… and that asshole nearly just blew you away. Christ, I'm going to have nightmares about this all over again…" She wept, burying her face in his neck. "If he'd killed you, just now… after all these years of wanting you back… if you came in and he'd killed you… I would have ripped his head off," she murmured between choked sobs and sniffles.

"Hey, whoa, I'm all right… My eyebrows are singed by I'm _okay_, Dawn. I'm here! I had to come as soon as I read your message… I wanted to tell you that I love you, _too_!"

"It's been three years," she murmured, hardly audible against the side of his neck. "I've moved on – I've been with others. I…"

"Shh," he wrapped his arms fully around her body. "Shh, Dawn – it's okay. I understand. It's only natural and I'm not upset about that. I'm just glad you're okay – I lost it when he hit you… I don't even remember what I did to him."

Karla snorted. "Your cane was glowing again. You hit his gun and the battery cell, inside the handle, burst. It vaporized three of his fingers and cauterized the stumps. It was pretty vicious, babe."

"And loud," added Winthrop. "Not to mention bright."

"Yeah, and that." Karla turned to her husband and said, "Find a bag. Get this girl's belongings together. Her laptop, phone if you can find it, a few pairs of clothes, and any cosmetic stuff you can find in the bathroom… get her a toothbrush – all that stuff. Go." She then turned to Conner and Dawn. "You two take a minute to yourselves. Have some private time. I'm going out in the hall to check and make sure that doofus isn't still out there, rolling around and bleeding on the floor. Messes draw attention." She turned about and walked towards the entrance of the studio apartment. Karla unlocked the front door and calmly walked through it like a normal person.

Dawn's soft crying slowed and she said, "You're awake… I'm so sorry – I was lonely and I feel horrible; I thought you were gone forever and…"

Again he pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh, it's fine. He's gone and I'm here now. It doesn't matter if you had a hundred lovers in these three years… I've come to win you back."

Dawn slumped back away from him, rubbing at her eyes with an out-of-place chuckle. "That pinhead is the first _guy_ I've dated in these three years. I bet you'll judge me _now_."

Conner placed his paws on her shoulders. "Why would I? Who cares? So long as they didn't all treat you like that dude just did… You don't deserve that."

She shook her head with a shrug. "That's the first time he raised a paw to me. He's very intense – a passionate person. Maybe that's why he and I stayed together for the last six months. He's very endearing, smooth and passionate. But as passionate as he can be with intimacy, he can be equally passionate with his temper. He's bipolar but he's also allergic to almost anything not organic so he couldn't take medication for it – I was starting to fall for him when this mess happened."

"I understand that after six months you feel inclined to defend his, uh… 'temper' but he just pulled a gun on you, then another one on me. Even the best lover in the world can't use his charm as a 'get out of jail free' card after something like that. Look at you." He waved his paw towards the rest of the flat. "What kind of lifestyle is this? Your last apartment was twice as nice."

Dawn shook her head. "My last apartment… my last _several_ apartments were low end. No credit check – I don't have to keep hacking, stealing and frauding. I'm not saying that I've changed my ways or become 'born again', but it's become rather difficult to maintain that lifestyle. Also my second of three girlfriends was a victim of fraud and it _really_ screwed up her life… she didn't deserve it. After that… I stopped frauding in order to get my homes."

"What happened to her?"

"She, uh… went back to her," Dawn's voice lowered, "_Husband_." She ran her palms along her forehead, up and through her bangs, pushing them back towards her ears. "Last I heard they actually worked things out this time." She swallowed back her shame and fear of being judged then said, "My first girlfriend was too butch, the third one was too submissive and wanted me to be more firm and… neither of them fit." She balled her paws into adorable little fists and glared at the raccoon. "I only dated you for, like… what – a month?" Her voice rose slightly. "How, HOW… could you affect me like this! How? HOW! One _month_ and I pine for you for _three years_, Conner!" She stood up, rubbing at her eyes again. "I had to _deprogram myself_ to get over you. Do you KNOW how awkward this is? Do you KNOW how badly I FEEL about seeing you alive, knowing I've had sex with others in the last three years? This is just… it's so…"

Conner swallowed back a lump of emotions in his throat. In a slow, calm voice, he said, "I'm here to win you back. I understand, Dawn. Rachel. Alice. Whatever you want me to call you – listen, we had about three or four weeks together. You and this guy… whatever his name was… you guys were together for six _months_. I'll even understand if you're not ready to dump him on the street just yet… but even though it was such a short time, my feelings for you are unconditional. I'm not here to _force_ you back into a sudden relationship. I told you – I'm here for two reasons… one, because I need your help… the other reason is simple: I'm here to win you back. You're worried about a stipulation? Well it's a simple one, sweetheart… I'm here to win you back but I'll ONLY do so _on your terms, at your speed_, if you wish to allow it. How's _that_ for a stipulation?"

"God, it's been three years," she murmured, looking down at him.

"It's been three days for me." Conner stood up. "We were in the shower together recently, so far as my mind is concerned. Does it hurt to see you with another? Sure thing… Am I jealous? You bet your sweet black thong it makes me jealous." To his words, he was awarded with a sniffle-laden chuckle. Conner continued, his confidence beginning to return. "Look, do you remember when you told me to speak in a deeper voice, when I woke up groggy? Well, I just woke up with a deeper voice. The best I can offer is… I'll talk to you whenever you want to hear it. Else, you've got my ear, my shoulder, and everything south of that… You've got my heart, my rib cage, my pelvis, my kneecap, _both_ pinky toes; you can have'em – they're yours. I might need a pedicure, though."

Again, Dawn's sniffles turned to choked chuckles. "You know, I did a lot of thinking… the reason you were so perfect is because you 'died' before I ever got to see any flaws. I kept telling myself that if we stayed together I'd eventually see your flawed side… but then you come back and you're just as shiny and flawless as ever."

This time Conner laughed. "I could say that I'm far from flawless now because I've not used my body in three years… so I'm as weak as a little kid. But the truth of the matter is, I was never flawless to begin with. How many times did you yell at me when breaking into Karl Gurlukovich's place, only to yell at me even more when I jumped out of Sergei Gurlukovich's car and through the rear windshield of that other one? You called me, 'immature, an amateur,' and 'a child'. Of course, I prided myself on being all of the above. But how was that being perfect?"

"I suppose you're right," she mused in a quiet voice. "When someone who treats you perfectly dies… every past sin and trespass is forgiven, because all you remember is how they made you feel… you made me feel amazing. I would have given myself to you in full had you not died."

"Do I have your permission to earn it all back one day, when you feel comfortable doing so?"

Dawn grew quiet for a moment. She fidgeted then slowly nodded. "Let's not rush. If you want to finish this mess… we all might be dead before the final curtain. My heart is bruised right now and I can't keep wearing it on my sleeve if you're not ready to get out of the crosshairs just yet." She licked her lips then, in a soft voice, inquired, "How's your family?"

"Do you know?"

She shook her head slowly. "I read your charts in the hospital – they said you were unnamed and unclaimed in the paperwork. I'm hoping that they're all right."

Winthrop approached them with a few small bags, a duffle and a laptop case. "Everyone is presumed KIA – it's been three years since Conner's family…" He stopped, seeing a glare from the teenager. "Sorry. It's your story."

"It's not important. They apparently died trying to avenge me. But their alleged deaths mean nothing until I see a body. If I don't see a body, I don't believe it. You guys remember how Karla was found, right? Winthrop, _you_ were there in person! I heard that Kalen was put into cryogenic freeze, too. My sister wanted to rescue him, leading up to this… this… mission of vengeance over _me_… Well guess what?"

"…What?" Dawn tilted her head.

"I've figured out how to get this guy back _and_ find out if he put his 'hostages' into stasis. There is only _one_ artifact left. I'm not sure why he hasn't yet obtained it – maybe it's hidden or maybe it's in too dangerous of a place… but _I_ intend to find it and I'll use it to lure him out of hiding. When I have his attention, I'll _kill him_ then I'm going to evacuate his little underwater city and _destroy_ it. I'll take it out to that deep-ass trench not far from Japan… then I'll send it to the bottom until it's crushed by its own mass or whatever."

She said, "The Mariana Trench, it's about seven _miles_ deep; eight tons of pressure per square inch… So you need my help doing all of these things?"

"I do. Look, I wanted to ask you something and… I never had the chance. Do you remember how you told me that there was something amusing about me calling you Dawn?"

She nodded slowly.

Conner placed a paw against her shoulder and walked her away from Winthrop. In a soft voice, he asked her, "Please, I really want to know… You said it would probably make me laugh – what is it about calling you Dawn that's so funny?"

She licked her lips and turned away from him. "Promise this will stay between us?"

"I do."

"Heh. Don't be in such a rush to say _those_ words, Conner…" She shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at him. In a voice quiet enough that Winthrop wouldn't hear, she said, "That's my birth name. It's just… ironic that you made it up on the spot in that breakfast bar when introducing me to Sergei and his friends. Maybe that's why I especially liked hearing you whisper it into my ear… it had more meaning." She walked back to the bags that Winthrop sat on the floor, shouldering each of them. "Can you grab my desktop?" She batted her lashes, although they were clumpy from the tears she shed less than ten minutes ago. "Please? It's the one you helped me buy in Florida… I felt like it was the last piece of you so I couldn't let it go."

"You're sweet." He smiled at her then crossed the living room and began to unhook it from the desk by the east wall. "You're going to have to fly this stuff back to Paris. We'll set up at Penelope's house and start doing research on Europe and Western Russia until we find out whatever it is that Moreau is looking for. We'll look at all the major artifacts that are now missing… and see if we can't find a pattern in order to figure out what the thing is even supposed to be."

"You'll probably want to train yourself back into shape, too."

Winthrop interjected. "We should all train ourselves. But I'll tell you right now: I'm not going to join you guys on your crazy mission. The fact that Penelope was _kind enough_ to watch Donnie so I could fly to Scotland for the day… that was very nice of Mrs. Wiseturtle. However, I do _not_ plan on running off to save the world while Penelope raises my kid. I'll raise him myself. Karla doesn't have a full time job – let her gallivant all over the globe. I'm not trying to die, here."

"We'll need a fourth person," said Conner with a chuckle. "I wonder if we'll be able to get a hold of the twins."

Dawn offered a nod. "Let's head back to your place and we'll try to contact them. Who is Penelope?"

"His godmother," said the weasel. "Are you ready to leave now, Dawn?"

"I have nothing here," she said. "God it's a good thing I had my home server running today… else your phone wouldn't have had anything to trace. I cannot believe I left a trail of breadcrumbs like that… I don't know what I was thinking… the hurt outweighed the paranoia."

"Speaking of that," said Conner. "Can you deprogram my phone? I can't use it – I want to call the cellular provider and get it reactivated."

"I'll look at it on the plane ride home," she returned with a grin. "Now let's go – I won't miss this place, that's for sure."

The trio headed for the door. Karla was waiting for them out in the hallway with an innocent looking smile on her dazzling, feminine visage. "Hi, gang! We ready to go, finally?" There was absolutely no sign of Dawn's ex-boyfriend.

* * *

A/N: _OKAY! YAY. The team is nearly complete. We just need to find a driver. Then the artifact… then the underwater dome… then Doctor M. Finally, we need to find a million dollars and give it to me!_

_:D_

_-Kit _


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter -21-

**Crowded around the small screen,** everyone watched with anticipation while Dawn worked her way through the coding script to break into the FBI database. She clicked furiously on keys, trying to hurry through the firewall before it could identify her as an intruder. She mumbled, "Once you're in, you're safe – it's people trying to get in that risk their tails. So far as their computer is concerned, we're an agent trying to log in from his or her laptop, but made a typo while inputting the password."

Winthrop folded his arms, standing adjacent to his wife. "And what happens if we can't do it?"

Dawn shrugged, never pulling her paws from the keyboard. "We have Conner steal a laptop from a real FBI agent, here in Europe. It won't come to that, so just relax."

Quite suddenly the screen went blank with nothing more than a simple blinking cursor at the top left hand corner. Karla blinked, Conner quirked his brows and Winthrop leaned forward, looking on with mild interest. "What happened?"

The nineteen year old raccoon glanced over her shoulder, brows furrowed and a grin tugging at the corner of her muzzle. "We're in. That's the prompt – what did you expect?"

Conner cut in. "A fancy display with a shiny, slick user interface that has a brilliant flashing animated GIF file, with the words, "ACCESS GRANTED" is about what we expected. I know, I know… this isn't the movies."

"You hardly watch movies anyway, if I recall," replied Dawn with a snicker. "The fancy graphical user interface layout is an application. This is just a command prompt. The Power Shell layout isn't designed to show anything fancy. Now, what is it we're looking for?"

Conner handed her a slip of paper. "Those are all the artifacts we could come up with when we brainstormed on the way to Glasgow. I want to know of anyone and everyone who is researching _all_ of them. That way, we eliminate all the college kids doing an essay, all the historians who are verifying the accuracy of Wikipedia and everyone else in between. I only want to know names of people who have done Internet searches on _every single article_ listed on that page."

Dawn looked over the sheet then cut her gaze back up at Cooper. "You wrote it on _paper_. How quaint."

This time, Karla smirked and said, "It doesn't leave a trail after its burned, now does it?"

"True." Dawn began executing search commands into the prompt. The wording looked like simplistic shorthand writing, unintelligible to anyone else in the room. She clicked the 'enter' key and a listing of text values displayed on the screen. More typing followed, changing the display on the screen with another group of meaningless words, commands and text based information.

"What is all of this?" asked Winthrop.

"ASCII," replied Dawn. "Just give me a moment, will ya'?" She continued to type then flipped the paper over and lifted her paw expectantly. "Writing utensil, please."

Someone offered her a pen, she didn't pay any attention to who offered it. Dawn brought the rollerball ink pen to the page and began jotting down words and clips of phrases. Her handwriting was all fancy curves. She placed the butt of the pen between her right molars and began typing again. After another moment, she jotted down another grouping of meaningless words. To the group, it appeared as, "$ SEH" followed by an underscore, then, "REGImexico Mayan Cortez. S-3-rhodi," underscore, "artifacts," backslash, "listing," another backslash, followed by letters and numbers grouped together. She went to the next line in the prompt and typed, "Finger Artifact."

Karla asked, "Does that mean the artifact we're looking for is a ring?"

"No," said Dawn with a huff of annoyance. "Finger is a command. I want to finger where the word ARTIFACT is utilized in the file to narrow down my search. Just… please, let me work."

The group grew silent. Dawn continued a rapid assault on the keys. Her plastic nails created a noisy clicking, something she was obviously already used to hearing, as it didn't distract her. After a moment she glanced over her shoulder and said, "This douche bag, Moreau, is looking for an artifact that belonged to the Mayan leader, a jaguar named Chan-Bahlun. Hernan Cortés seized it in the mid 1520's. The Yucatán Peninsula had a record rainfall for one season, followed by a record dry spell after this artifact disappeared. I'm no historian, but I've definitely never heard of this artifact."

"He was the Conquistador, mistaken as the returning king, Chan-Bahlun – a jaguar with blond hair, a beard and blue eyes." Everyone turned to Karla who shrugged then continued speaking. "I lived in the middle ages, you morons. Anyhow, the Spaniard returned to Europe with Chocolate Cocoa pods, called Cacao, which was symbolic of life and fertility. It was bitter in tea but when mixed with sugar and milk, you get milk chocolate, as we know it today. …Then the Swiss and the Swedes celebrated by gorging themselves." Her words broke the tension by issuing a round of soft chuckles from everyone.

"Do you know of the artifact that the guy took?"

Karla shook her head. "Hernan brought back goods. Spanish priests burned the codices of the Mayans and converted them to Christianity. I've _never_ heard of an artifact belonging to them that would have _anything_ to do with all this other stuff. When was this artifact discovered?"

Dawn began typing again. After what felt like several long minutes, she paused and read aloud, "It was unearthed in 1998 but was considered just another trinket until a fifth Mayan codices surfaced in December of 2012 by one of the people obsessed with the end of the world. The trinket was labeled as a gift from the sea, protected by Chan-Bahlun and left to the people upon his return to the sea."

"I thought cats were afraid of water," Winthrop mused.

"They bathe more often than most," Karla reminded in a stern tone.

Winthrop added, "I mean running water. Isn't it supposed to wash away oils that keeps their fur shiny or something? Maybe it was salt water, or possibly…"

"Shut up, you guys." Conner folded his arms then nodded to Dawn to continue.

"Yeah, so…" The teenage raccoon cleared her throat and nodded back to Conner. "Anyhow, the artifact _and_ the fifth codices disappeared in January of 2013. I …guess there were some really disappointed people out there when the world _didn't_ end. The artifact showed up…" she paused and scrolled down on the prompt to the next screen full of words. Text wrapped to the next line without any formatting style. "…It showed up in Europe during the Second World War in Dresden then disappeared again. Then it showed up in…"

"Wait." Karla placed a paw on Dawn's shoulder. "It's not talking about the two of Dresden. Dresden is the name of the codex written in Mayan and is named for the Library where it was kept, the Royal Library of Dresden, Germany. It sat there for about seventy years until the early eighteen hundreds when some scholar got hyped up about the contents."

"Right," said Dawn, "My mistake… okay, so it's the fourth and largest one salvaged by sympathetic priests who decided not to burn the Mayan crap."

Karla taped a nail on her lower lip in thought. "Hmm, I only know of _three_ codices. Found in reverse order if I'm not mistaken, I do believe they are known as the Madrid Codex, which was called the Tro Codex, also known as the Tro-Cortesianus… then there is the Paris one – Peresianus Codex, and, finally, the Dresden one, first not the fourth, which was linked back to Chichen Itza. The Mayan city famous for… being… famous." She shrugged. "I'm no expert in this stuff. The supernatural society took it seriously in the middle ages. They also followed the Mayan calendar and prophecies. They take that stuff _quite_ seriously."

"Weird." Copper unfolded his arms then placed his paws on the backrest of the seat that Dawn was using. "So the FBI apparently knows about this, too. What does the artifact look like? And who was looking up information on it?"

Dawn folded her paws and glanced over her shoulder, back at the rest of the group. "There are currently two people in the last five months who have used the Internet to look up all the artifacts on your page. BOTH of them were looking up information on the Mayan artifact. There are less than ten others looking up information on this very same artifact, so it's obvious that not many people know of its existence. Eight and a half billion people are unaware that it even exists, you guys."

Conner frowned. "So much for looking it up on The History Channel." He sighed then shrugged. "Okay, what's it look like?"

"Hell if I know," said Dawn. "I can't even tell you which of the thirteen bakhtuns we're in. Screw it – we didn't died when it was prophesized so I don't believe in the Katuns, the Bakhtuns, or any of that crap."

Karla shrugged with a slow upward roll of her shoulders. "I don't follow the Tzolkin almanac, either, I'm afraid. The original calendar count ran from about August 10th, 3113 BC, to December 24th 2011. But the math was a little off and all this other stuff that goes into effect… Since the Mayan calendar was about ten-thousandth of a day _more_ accurate than the calendar we currently use, there had to be a little more math involved to figure out that it was supposed to notated between 3114, Before the Common Era, and end December 21st, 2012. But, like you said, we're all still here and no one died. There was no huge flood. There was no asteroid. There was no iron ball emerging from the center of the Earth or any of that silly nonsense. The long-count calendar simply started over again. Big damn deal. After that, the supernatural community decided they could give a damn about the Mayan prophecies. Me? I slept through it." A grin was offered.

"Yeah, that you did," said Winthrop.

"So what's your rant about?" Dawn shifted her weight in the seat, looking back over her other shoulder at Karla.

"If the Mayans were simply predicting when the Long-Count would end, or when the Polar ends of the Earth would change, or when we would pass through the Milky Way Galaxy, or when their calendar would start over… and they were _not_ predicting the end of the world… then why does their artifact mean jack? Maybe that's a wrong end clue, too."

"Who cares?" said Conner, throwing his paws up in the air. "If it's right or if it's wrong, it doesn't matter. I want to see if Moreau is tracking it down… if he is, we can trace a trail back to him. Then I'll know where he's hiding, I'll show up on his front door and use my cane to push his nose up into his skull. Then we'll take all the artifacts he's already amassed… and spread them out again. Seriously, you guys… who cares if the artifact is right or not? There's no way to tell without finding it and putting it on the shelf with the rest, in Moreau's office. Who cares? Besides, how in the hell does some old extinct race know how to tell the future, anyhow?"

Karla grinned at Conner. "Nice… And to answer your question, some suggest that the Mayans are descendents from antediluvian civilizations like, I don't know… Atlantis or something. It's suggested that they passed on their knowledge when the world ended for them… and the survivors started as a tribe, say… the Mayans. Those people were obsessed with their culture and so it was never forgotten when the next cataclysm was marked to happen… But ah well, it didn't come true. So who gives a flying fu—"

"Wait," interjected Winthrop. "What does the Long Count calendar even represent? It has to have some sort of relevant meaning."

Dawn scratched her head and scrolled through the words on the screen, speaking aloud intermittently while reading. "Hmm, let's see… it's about… fifty-two hundred years and… hmm." She then snapped her fingers. "Twenty-five thousand nine hundred twenty years is basically when we dip back through the equator of the Milky Way – think of it that way… Anyhow, the Long-Count is exactly one-fifth of that time. December of 2012 was supposed to be the end of the fourth age, going into the fifth. It wasn't supposed to signify the planet exploding, it was supposed to signify a huge celestial change that causes a few negative changes on Earth. Maybe the math was off."

Conner grinned. "Maybe the end of the world is tomorrow. Are you guys ready for it?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Karla mused. "The Mayan prophet, Lord Pacal said that it wouldn't be the end of the world, either. He said the dominating masculine energy of left brain logic will merge with the feminine energies of right brain intuition and will thus end confrontations in polarity of the brain. He said that it will give birth to a Oneness consciousness, and the mortal mind will evolve as of that date." She snorted, adding, "I call _bullshit_."

"Cute," mumbled Dawn. "Okay, it's getting stuffy in here. I need a break from you guys. Yeah, a civilization was confirmed to exist off the shore of Bermuda, big deal. It's a few underwater carvings that _might_ have been roads. But the water eroded it into nothing. Whether or not Atlantis existed, whether or not the Mayans were survivors that kept the knowledge going passed down from their more civilized ancestors… in the end, there's only one thing that matters…" She got up from her chair and stretched, walking away from the computer. "There is a _new Atlantis_ dome down there and _we_ need to be the ones to sink it." She then walked away from the group but not before glancing over her shoulder at Conner. "And moving that thing _across the world_ to Japan isn't feasible. Just sink it in the next deepest trench, on _this_ side of the globe." She grinned then walked to the front door. "I'm going to go and stretch for a few minutes."

The front door shut behind her. Winthrop turned to Karla and Conner. "What if blowing up _this_ Atlantis Dome is somehow the trigger for ending the world? What if _we_ cause it? Blowing that thing up would cause a tidal wave, I'm sure. We might be fulfilling prophecy, and the math would have only been off by a decade and a half."

"Oh Jesus Christ." Conner threw his paws up into the air again and followed Dawn outside of the apartment.

Karla glowered at her husband. "Blowing up one little dome won't end the _whole world_," she said. "Doofus. I swear. Things that wipe out an entire civilization require global or celestial situations. Even if the world nuked itself tomorrow, enough people would survive that when the sun finally shined again, everything would resume."

"So when _is_ the end of the world?"

The felox slumped into Dawn's chair. "Hell if I know. It all depends on what you believe in. The world only _ends_ when you _die_. The question is, how permanent is The End Of The World? Some believe in reincarnation. If you believe in Jesus Christ, who came at the _meridian_ of time, then you take into account that fossils prove the modern person has been around for thirty thousand years… then guess what? We have a _long_ way to go before the end of days. But some Christians are narrow-minded and discount the age of things like fossils. They claim the world is only six thousand years old, based on the modern calendar. Basing _anything_ on the modern calendar is _proof_ of their narrow-mindedness because the modern calendar wasn't around in the days of Christ. It wasn't even his _real name_ – it's a name the Spaniards gave him! So, even if that's the case and they're right about the world being only six thousand years old, we still have well _over_ a thousand years left, since Christ comes at the _center_, at the _middle_ of time. Okay… now, let's say you're a Mayan. Guess what? The end of the world already _happened_ for you. Your ancestors include Spaniards, Mexicans and so forth. Your world… your _civilization_ has already ended. Maybe December 21st 2012 marked the day that the last of their most important and understood artifacts would disappear? And, thus, their civilization ended for good on that day and everything was forgotten by the next day, because the world didn't end, so no one took stock in their beliefs any longer."

Winthrop rubbed his chin. "Hmm, that's actually a pretty good hypothasis. Okay, so what if I'm any other religion, or lack-there-of, in this world? When does the world end for ME?"

"The day you die, you knuckle head. When one civilization ends, another one crops up. So far as a six thousand year old civilization, many civilizations have come and gone in six thousand years. So the world has ended and started over for many people many times since then. It's all interpretation. So far as I'm concerned, no one is ended _my_ world – I have a baby to raise and a husband to satisfy. Now, get your tail on the sofa and be quiet." She pointed to a nearby couch.

"Hey, wait a second. I'm the man of the house, here. I'm the boss."

"You're only the boss on the rare occasions that I give you permission to be the boss, now sit down and be quiet." Karla walked towards the front door and let herself outside. She approached Conner and Dawn, cleared her throat and said, "You said something about needing another member of the team. Who?"

"You've never met them," said Conner. "I want to find the Tiikeri sisters. Even just one of them will do nicely. Then we'll be ready to make some plans."

The felox nodded, asking, "What's the name of one of them?"

"Keri Tiikeri."

Another nod. "Fair enough. I still have contacts in the supernatural inner circle, known as The Guiding Hand. Now, if you go repeating this stuff, I'll deny it and call you crazy. Anyhow, The Hand is comprised of supernatural beings who prefer working together. Sure there are supernatural creatures who loathe The Hand, but… that's neither here nor there. I'll make some calls and we'll take a trip. One of those people are liable to have some sort of ability that will help us find your other teammates. When we find them, we can get started on hunting down this artifact, whether or not it's Mayan – it doesn't matter. I think we should find out some way to track down Moreau, then we should get his attention by staging an artifact hunt and claim that it was successful. When he shows up, we trail him back to his base and execute your original plan… kick his tail."

"That's what I'm talking about," said Cooper with a dazzling smile. "Keri Tiikeri, go plug it into whatever… I'm still struggling with all the aspects of supernatural citizens. They're just natural mutations so far as I'm concerned. But if you know someone who can locate one of my old friends… go for it. I won't stop ya'." He turned back to Dawn and said, "As I was saying… I don't blame you for taking off. My mother even said it was the smartest thing you could have done because you're smart enough to know your limitations and your strengths. That shows good judgment. I _need_ your good judgment. Winthrop isn't going to help us, and the three of us would struggle to do this stuff alone. Karla and I can't do squat without _you_. You said you narrowed down your search to just a very select few people… maybe you can get us some information on those people?"

"Yeah, I can do that," said Dawn. "It'll provide a place to start…" She then turned to Karla and offered a paw. "I'll join your little coterie. Karla, you impressed me a few moments ago. I didn't think you knew anything about history, culture, or anything that requires relevant intelligence. I thought you were just an engineered piece of ass with fancy abilities."

"I lived through it – the middle ages were _my_ years. They were _my_ civilization, which has _long_ since ended. I'm not as smart as you guys. I fidgit with an iPod… That gizmo has been out for decades. But I'm _far_ smarter than guys like Thomas Gerard."

Dawn rubbed her chin. "I don't… really remember him."

"Grizzly bear Interpol Agent. He was there, in that store, the day you and I met, Dawn." Conner leaned back against the wall outside of her apartment door. "And you're right, Karla," he added, glancing over at the lush framed felox. "He wasn't all that bright. He wasn't a _complete_ idiot, but he wasn't the brightest bulb on the Vegas strip, either." Cooper turned his attention back to Dawn and said, "Thank you for joining the party. We're going to have fun working together, again."

Karla clasped her left paw on Dawn's shoulder and her right one on Conner's broad shoulder. "It's going to get dangerous again. Around the time that we get Moreau's attention, which will probably be the very minute we start looking for this last artifact… well, it doesn't take a genius to assume he'll start making life difficult for us."

Dawn frowned. "I heard he was smart – he's probably going to lay low and let us do all the work only to show up at the last minute and try to steal it."

"I'm counting on that, Dawn."

Karla shook her head. "I've lived a few life times. I'm seasoned enough to _know_ that people only do that stuff in stories. He's going to make things difficult. Trust me. People like him are a real piece of work. Remember, Sire and I worked with him. Sire hired him _years_ upon years ago. Stephan, back in 1979, helped him with a few treatments… it increased his physical strength and helped him to live longer. He's not your usual old man."

"Hmm." Conner's jaw tightened. "I've never met him, so I'm going to have to go on your assessment of him. Okay, then…" He turned back to Dawn and asked, "Can we finish this search through the FBI's database? I want to move forward as soon as possible. You don't mind leaving Glasgow, do you?"

"Not in the least," she said, heading back into her apartment.

* * *

_Finnish-Russian Border_

_A small warehouse building overlooking the water in Nuijamaa _

_Thirty minutes AGO…_

**Keri Tiikeri ran her fingers back through her poufy** head-fur. Her gleaming eyes reflected the words on the holographic display, glassy from exhaustion. "Did you hear the news, yesterday?" She paused and turned away from the floating display to give her eyes a break. "Conner Cooper's body disappeared. Something tells me that he wasn't abducted – there's very little that someone can do with a comatose body. No, I actually think he woke up and took off. God, I sure hope so, at least – we could _really_ use his help."

"It's possible but not probable – he had extremely limited brain activity last I read. It's a shame, really; his family members are missing and presumed dead. A tragic and sudden end to the Cooper line."

Keri snorted in disdain. "He's probably trying to do the same thing _we're_ trying to do at this very moment. Only we one-up him by a year and a half of working together. All right, I think I found something in these texts – look at these two symbals right here."

The skunk approached her, placing a calm paw against her shoulder. He leaned in close, peering at the holographic screen floating above her desk. "I see them. For someone who isn't versed in this sort of thing, you have a surprisingly uncanny eye for recognition. Look at this one," he said, placing a black fingertip against the energy field. It distorted slightly causing him to draw his paw back. "That one is a snake being – you don't see the Naga in _this_ detail in Mayan culture. It's usually drawn differently. But, do you see how there are snakes rising out of it's chest – I don't think _those_ are meant to be snakes coming out of snakes… I think they symbolize blood slithering out of the torso."

"What about this one?" asked Keri, pointing upward, above his paw. "Right there, above the Naga creature icon… it's a feline with a oddly bushy tail – really quite thick. You said their leader was a jaguar with blonde hair and a beard… this is almost like the depiction of their leader but without the beard." She lowered her finger and pointed to a slight marking on the torso. "It's a female – look. Breasts. It's definitely a female."

The skunk motioned to the space between the two icons. "It appears that the feline with the tail of a fox is emerging from the Naga with the blood spewing from their chest. Unfortunately I understand this marking well. It prophesizes that there will one day be a being that will come along as a reincarnated woman. She, alone, will have the ability to obtain what we seek."

Keri lifted her tail and gave it a sullen shake. "Mine isn't thick enough."

A long, slow sigh then the memphit said, "No, but Karla Chintzy's tail _is_."

"Who?"

"She's a felox whose biggest and strangest quirk involves reincarnation – she's older than _me_ but not in this form. I would like to enlist her aid in finding this final piece."

"So I've told you I'm here doing this to try and rescue my friend, Javari if she's truly still alive. I'm also doing this to avenge everyone for Conner's sake… but you never told me why _you're_ getting involved in this mess."

The skunk's eyes lowered to the floor for a moment then lifted once more. "I foolishly aided Moreau in 1979. My treatments have extended his life, fortitude and endurance to extend beyond the average mortal. I'm partially responsible for everything that's happening. I've seen cataclysmic changes once – I do not wish to experience such things a second time. What he's attempting to do will cause such things to a level that one cannot possibly fathom unless you've been through it. I wish to rid my heart of guilt and strike him down before he finds his last piece."

"Fair enough." Keri rubbed her chin and turned her attention back to the images and words that floated above her head. "How do you plan on taking out a guy who is now supposedly all badass, or whatever?"

"There are ways. I've not lived as long as I have without building methods with which to survive something as barbarically simplistic as combat. It's a way of life and a way of mortal society, so I'm more than prepared."

"Okay, then. Oh!" She stood up and pointed to an icon on the screen. "Wow! Look at this one!" She pressed the "print" icon at the top of the display.

He stood up slowly and brought a paw to his chin in thought. "Now _that_ is interesting. We need to access the Internet about this one… This could be big." A noise startled them both. They looked at one another then headed for the window of the small two-story building. The skunk passed through the holographic visual and arrived at the window first. "Friends of yours? This building hasn't been used for ages – the fact that someone knows we're here is disconcerting at best." He turned back to Keri who approached the window.

She gazed down at a group of armed men in militia gear, complete with helmets and riot shields. "Holy crap, it's like they're expecting to fight Robocop. So much for the safety of Suomi… Okay, let's head out the back way. There's a pole I've welded to the mounts where the fire escape stairs used to be attached to the brickwork."

"I admit, I'm not enthusiastic about this."

Keri grabbed his shirt at the shoulder and said, "You're not enthusiastic about _anything_, dude. C'mon!" She snatched a warm page from the printer tray and her car keys. She closed the browser page and clicked a shortcut icon on the desktop designed to clear the browsing history then clicked on another icon labeled, "SOS" before rushing away from the computer terminal. At the back of the building, she opened a set of wooden window shutters. The plywood covering opened on discrete hinges and she gave the skunk a push. "Go, go. I'll close this properly." He passed through then she stepped out, behind him, onto the remains of a corroded metallic platform. She turned about, pulled the plywood cover back into place and hooked a cotter pin into place to lock it.

The memphit took the pole into his palms. "What's the lock for?" He clung to the metal sliding pole, curled his legs around it and held on dearly all the way to the bottom.

Keri followed. She hit the ground with a soft thump and a grunt then said, "Incase of a storm. Okay, we'll come back for my truck – there's a boat hidden under the Joutsenontie byway span, where it crosses the water."

"Where…?"

She pointed towards the northwest. "Route 3921, just off of Rajatie. It's less than a kilometer from here. Let's avoid the roads, directly… just in case." She waved her paw and he followed. She cut through the trees that ran along the Rajatie, a road that was beginning to crack along the asphalt surface. "Not much longer, c'mon. Stay low!" She ducked through the brush and trees, pushing aside a branch every so often.

Keri waved for the skunk to pass then she knelt down and drew a small spool of string from her pocket. With her other paw, she stashed the printed page into her back pocket then began to unwind the string. She secured it around the trunk of two nearby trees then shoved the remainder of the thick string back into her front pocket. "Get down," she said then took cover in a bush.

"Your hearing must be better than my own," he said, taking refuge in a clutter of greenery. He received no response but seconds later was able to hear scuffling.

A lone scout paused and sniffed at the air. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his assault rifle. The feline mercenary moved forward, slowly. Something caught against his boot and he froze. His eyes lowered, gazing at the string that was now pulled tight against his footwear. "God dammit," the man cursed in plain English. "Now I've got to track this damned line back to the mine without setting it off." He lowered to his knees, keeping the tension even on the string.

Without warning, something struck him in the back of his head. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Keri knelt adjacent to him and began to remove his gear. She looked up, towards wherever the skunk had hid himself and said, "I really expected him to trip. Mines? He must be paranoid, but it works for me! She withdrew his sidearm, took the holster, his additional ammunition, radio, earpiece and assault rifle. Her head tilted a bit. "Belgian weapons, huh?" She removed webbing that held grenades in place against his torso then his boots. Keri drew the first boot back then launched it into the air with all of her might. Seconds later, a satisfying splash rang in her ears, inaudible to the man who was with her. She repeated the throw with the second boot but it got caught in a tree.

"What's the point of throwing his boots?" asked the man.

"The ground gets softer, up ahead. If he wakes up in a moment, he won't be able to chase as efficiently." She then took a first aid kit from his flack jacket and the harness that held it to the fabric. "Nice! Hold this," she added, tossing the box to the dark-furred man. "Don't drop it. There might be valuable stuff in there." Keri removed his combat knife and its sheath then another small pistol. She then lifted the handle of the pistol and whipped the man in the back of his head.

He flinched, groaned then relaxed on the ground. Keri stood up and murmured, "He'll easily have a concussion." A grin tugged at the corner of the tigress' maw. "Sleep it off, buddy." She stepped over him, passed the skunk and said, "C'mon, this way." She pushed assault rifle into his paws. "Don't shoot yourself with it."

The memphit's facial features dimmed, as if glowering. "I know my way around weaponry." He stashed the first aid pack halfway down the back of his pants then put the combat knife and its sheath into his boot. Finally, the skunk checked the magazine on the rifle and chambered a round. He flipped the safety switch and aimed the barrel down at a forty-five degree angle. "Is this boat fast and noisy or slow and quiet?"

"It's both," she said, adding, "There's an electric motor on the front and a two hundred horsepower Evinrude outboard on the back. At that point, we'll stash the guns and look like tourists or something. We're almost there." She continued through the trees and bushes, quickening her pace. At the edge of the wooded area, she paused, putting a paw out to stop him. "Wait."

"For what?"

"You're no general, just keep quiet." She eased forward, peering through the leaves and general foliage. Her tail puffed up and her body became as rigid as a statue. In a soft whisper, she told him, "We… are… screwed."

"It's feasible that if they belong to Moreau, they're here to execute anyone considered competition."

Keri cut her gaze back, glaring over her shoulder at him. She whispered, "How the hell would anyone even know what we're looking for?"

This time, it was the skunk that face faulted. "What we searched for is traceable over the Internet. He simply has connections that lead him to find us. Quicker than I'd hoped, unfortunately."

"We're not going down without a fight. Fall back slowly. How long can you hold your breath?"

"I'm no pearl diver," he said, adding, "Approximately two minutes at best, with adrenaline and a prayer."

"I'll create a distraction." She pocketed her pistols and took the assault rifle from him. Keri flipped the safety switch, removed a grenade from the netting and withdrew the pin. She nodded to a nearby branch. "Quick, hold that." He did as she asked.

Keri tossed the grenade up into the air then swung the rifle by the barrel. The butt stock struck the grenade, sending it straight up through the branches. She disengaged the safety and handed the weapon back to him then nodded towards the north. "Let's head straight to the water. They're actually out on the road, guarding the damned bridge."

Seconds later, a fairly distant explosion filled the air from the south. There was shouting and the sound of heavy footfalls. Most of the men began running in the direction of the detonation, weapons at the ready.

"Taking a swim is the absolute last ditch plan," she told the man. "I want to keep this printed page dry at all costs." They broke from the trees at the edge of the waterway. She slide down the embankment onto a line of rocks down at the water's level. She moved to the left, towards the bridge, just to the west. "I can see the boat from here, stay quiet, keep your head down and move swiftly! New change of plan – I'll gun the motor and you shoot at the remaining guards on the bridge. They'll duck and cover, giving us additional time to get away."

"Understood," he replied, muttering, "A lifetime of science and I'm reduced to being a commando."

The two scurried along the rock embankment until they reached the motorboat. She pointed to the rope that kept the boat docked to the line of rocks. "I'll get the anchor; use the knife I gave you and cut the mooring line." She rushed for the stern and pulled the pin, pushing the motor down into the water then crossed to the front and began jerking on the chain that disappeared into the water.

The skunk did as he was instructed, cutting through the mooring rope with the knife. He put it back into the sheath and climbed aboard the small craft, kneeling down on the side. He readied his weapon.

Keri came around to the port, slinging the anchor to the front deck. She scooted back to the center of the craft and dropped into the driver's seat. The tigress withdrew her car keys, flipped through the collection on the ring then put the boat key into the ignition and started it. The burley outboard motor rumbled to life, instantly at an idle – a baritone sounding, 'glub, glub, glub.' A distant shouting could be heard, up on the bridge.

"Hold on to your tail," she shouted, punching the throttle lever all the way forward. The motor's guttural churning noise changed dramatically into a mechanical scream. The boat emerged from beneath the bridge, headed west away from the Russian boarder.

The skunk, still knelt on the deck, began sporadic firing towards the group of men up on the road, above. They dispersed, diving to the ground and dropping from his sight. "It's a shame, there are so many on that bridge…"

Keri cut him off, shouting over the roar of the motor. "Cover your eyes!" She fished out a remote control box from a storage compartment beneath the dashboard. She switched the unit 'on' and thumbed a blinking red button on the side. She held it for a moment then released the button, tossing the remote control overboard. Before the unit even hit the water, the bridge exploded in a grand display of what looked like fireworks.

"Destruction of public roads?" He called back to her.

"No, wait for the smoke to clear!" she shouted in reply. True to her statement, as the thunder of explosives died down and the smoke settled, the bridge was intact, but spectacular flames danced over the concrete structure. "Can't burn concrete, but you can sure as hell burn attackers!"

"You've planned this?" he said, making his way up to a seat next to hers. "Or did you set this up to get away from _anyone_."

"A little of both," she said in a loud, clear voice, speaking over the motor. "We can't head east – they check for weapons as you go into Russia. We'll have to throw this stuff overboard if the police send a helicopter. For now, keep the weapons down on the deck. Push them under the seat cushions or something. Don't forget to engage the safety!"

"Look!" He lifted his paw, pointing to a black boat up ahead. "There are armed men on that barge."

"Are you SERIOUS?" she shouted in frustration. "Okay, the grenades… I want you to shoot at these idiots as we come up on them. They'll take cover. I'll go right by'em, then I'll drop a grenade on their deck as we pass. Get ready. After this, we've got to go into hiding and lay low for a few days. I know just the place."

The memphit grumbled then stood up. The wind blew back the fur of his face, giving him a sinister look. He leveled the assault rifle over the boat's windshield opened up his stance and fired back-to-back three-round bursts. The men on the barge began firing back but also moved into evasive positions. He knelt to the deck and crawled towards the front, staying low. The assault rifle came to rest along the shaft of an electric motor that lay along the front of the boat. He leveled it carefully then fired another quick burst.

Keri wrestled out another grenade, jerked the pin with her teeth and winced from the discomfort. She then tightened her arm. The high power motorboat screamed by the barge full of armed men. She lobbed the grenade upwards. It landed on the center of the barge, bouncing along the deck – a sound lost over the ambient roar of the Evinrude outboard.

"I only have three…" The last word of her sentence was unheard over the fantastic crack of the grenade's detonation. She then repeated the word a second time, "Remaining!" She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a man drop into the water about four meters from the barge. His body created a fantastic splash.

"These things have a lot of kick!" she exclaimed. "God, we've got to get somewhere quiet and lay low," she added.

He leaned over the front of the bow, leading Keri to believe he may have been throwing up. However, the skunk lifted his head, appearing healthy and well. He scooted back towards the center of the boat and said, "We've taken two holes in the hull. They're above the waterline but it's possible there are holes that I'm unable to see, as well."

"I'll patch'er up later. I'm not as good as DJ but I know how to cover a small gouge in a fiberglass shell. At least they didn't hit the motor."

"Let's count our blessings, young lady." He slumped back into the chair and flipped a switch on the side of the rifle then pushed it under a bench seat with a few stowed life preservers. "I commend you on your clever escape plan. You were impressively prepared."

"I'm a getaway driver, it's what I do." She cast him a sly grin then cut back on the throttle marginally. The front end of the boat lowered by a small amount, making forward visibility easier to attain from their seated position. "I have a fallback location not far from here. It lacks Internet and comfortable sleeping arrangements but it's a lot better than a coffin."

"Agreed." He removed the first aid kit from the back of his pants and shifted his weight in the cushioned seat. "Do you have supplies there?"

"Canned goods with a long shelf life," she replied. "We'll be fine. We'll stay there until either the Calvary shows up or until my intuition says it's safe."

"To what Calvary do you refer?" He glanced back towards the distant barge then cut his gaze to the sky to check for foes. Satisfied, he leaned back in his seat.

Keri took a moment to ponder how to reply to his question. "Okay, don't get bent out of shape," she said, "But I left an SOS on the computer. Yeah, I know… the bad guys will search the computer and find it easily… or they'll cut the connection but… it'll be too late by then. Don't flip out – it's encoded. Unfortunately I've not heard from my sister in a year. She's still in America, somewhere. Most likely, she'll never receive the message. It was something she would have been able to understand. This place has been our fallback point since we were teenagers."

"There _must_ be a catch to your distress signal."

Keri offered him a wan grin and a shrug. "Yeah… there is." She then changed to a sheepish grin and told him, "Anyone monitoring our Internet feed, including this guy you said may have tracked us… yeah… well… they can see it just fine. That's why it's encrypted, encoded and written based off of an inside joke that I share with my twin sister. The _only_ people who could understand it is people that ran with us, when we were together. Javari and her boyfriend are missing in action. Charles Joseph is probably dead by now, along with our old captain and Javari's ex-boyfriend. Dawn is missing, Conner is missing and presumed brain dead, and my sister is hiding out in America, trying to add to her education or… something."

"Being on our own isn't necessarily the end of the world," he said. "The one who is missing? Dawn, you said? Would she be Internet savvy enough to see your message?"

"Yes, but she'd have to be looking at the right place at the right time. Highly unlikely. She'd have to be looking at the same crap that this dude you mentioned is monitoring… you know, using a large Government computer that's screening the lines for information on these artifacts… The likelihood of her doing this is very low. I've only seen her _once_ in the last three years. I went to visit Conner and she was in his room, holding his paw. We spoke briefly. She said she went into hiding after he was impaled and told me what had happened to him. Most likely, with him out of the picture, she's gone deep into hiding. She probably doesn't even know he's awake yet."

"IF he's awake," the man corrected.

"Yeah, if. I've got five euros that says he's awake. People don't just go missing while they're in a coma. I read that news article, man. It said there was no signs of foul play. His fingerprints are on the _outside_ of the suction cups that were connected to him, monitoring his …whatever. I'm telling you – it's a woman's intuition… he's awake."

"Fair enough. Let us hope you are correct. We'll require his assistance if that is the case. For now, let us lay low, as you previously suggested."

"I'd really like to know you're name, first."

"Make up such a designation if you prefer. I'll go by that."

"No, give me one of _yours_. Surely you've gone by a name recently that you can still use."

"Perhaps 'Stephan' shall suffice." He offered her a weak smile then turned his attention forward, scanning the water ahead of them with a stoic expression.

* * *

_About twenty-four hours later… _

_Lentäjäntie 3, Vantaa, Finland_

_Helsinki-Vantaan lentoasema (Airport)_…

**Karla Weasel drew a pair of sunglasses from **a turning display. She placed them upon the bridge of her snout and gazed into a mirror at the top of the free-spinning display then tried another pair. She continued to look in the mirror as it was positioned perfectly to see what Conner and Dawn were doing. Out in front, the two raccoons stood on the other side of the glass front wall. They appeared to be talking to one another.

Winthrop approached her and placed a paw on her shoulder. "There's something I want you to see," he said.

She lifted a paw and said, "Give me just a minute and I'll be right there." She walked away from the sunglasses display and approached the entrance of the gift shop trying to get close enough to hear the conversation between the two raccoons.

"I'm not sure which sister sent it," said Dawn to Cooper. "The message is pretty clear and it's comprised of phrases the two say to one another but in an order that creates a message where the first decoded line reads, "Tiikeri needs help – come to the safe house in Finland." I've got part of the second line decoded but it's a pain because this isn't my forte. It reads something to the effect of, "Attacked by a group of armed mercenaries." Now, some of that is a little shaky, too. It could read, "We're attacking a group of armed mercenaries," but right now I think the first way I worded it is more accurate. If that's the case, they're in serious trouble and we're not here to fool around – we're here to find them and help them so _they_ can help _us_."

"But there was a third and a fourth line, correct?"

"Yes," she mused. "The best I could do with those lines are just a few words."

"What've you got?"

She sighed, fishing out a piece of paper from her pocket; she got a grin from Conner and replied to his expression with a smirk, shaking the page in her paw. "Okay, so I went old school so I could doodle some… ANY-way! I've got, _Internet_, and the word, _danger_ twice. I've got, _safehouse_ again, because of the way it was used in the first section. And that's about it. Oh, and another part where the word 'need' is used, but she wouldn't say she needs help twice… so I'm thinking the second time it comes up is where she says what she'll need, whether it's supplies, a vehicle… weapons… I couldn't tell you."

"I wish we could figure out an address but it doesn't seem likely. And you said you came across this while researching the _FBI_ database that automatically records who is looking up information on these artifacts?"

"You've got it. It's possible, I suppose, that one of the sisters may have been looking up information about the Cooper clan's involvement into all this mess. I mean it's in the news – there are reports that say you're missing from the hospital, although they don't have a name; the media is using the patient ID given to you."

Dawn paused from her statement, shrugged, and continued. "It's a safe bet to assume they wrote down what your patient ID number was and… and I know both of those girls showed up to visit you at one point or another… so they're keeping an eye on you. Maybe they're looking up information to see if you're out there, back at it all over again so they know how to contact you. I can't be sure."

Conner drew a fingertip to his chin. "I mean, here we are in Finland, ready to hunt for her. If only we could somehow… figure out a way to make a guess as to a good place to start."

Something caught Conner's attention. He glanced over his shoulder, through the glass, into the gift shop. Winthrop seemed upset about something and was speaking in a way that showed his frustration. Conner couldn't hear what the weasel was saying to his wife but she wasn't paying full attention to him, either.

"Hold that thought," said Conner. He walked away from Dawn then stepped back into the store and approached Winthrop. "What's wrong? You look pale, man."

He huffed in frustration, now suddenly having the attention of his wife as well. Winthrop shook his head in mock defeat then said, "The television, over on the other side of the store, just said that there are _two_ people holed up in an old warehouse. A media chopper reported that they could see at least one of the victims through a rooftop window – it was a _tigress_. They are surrounded on all sides by armed attackers. Police intervened only to be dispatched at an alarming rate of speed. After police deaths were confirmed, a military helicopter showed up, possibly for reconnaissance. What if the two people in the warehouse are the two girls you're looking for… you said they're twins, right?"

Conner wordlessly brushed by him and headed across the store, stopping at the television set on the far wall. Dawn joined him minutes later but remained quiet. Karla approached him from the other side. After a few minutes of watching the news footage of a warehouse from above, he announced, "I have a bad feeling about this." Gunfire twinkled at the edge of the screen. On occasion, return fire shimmered back through windows in the warehouse. "Where is this place?"

Dawn raised her voice. "Nuijamaa – I can tell by the words on the screen… that is the name of the area… but I have _no idea_ where it is. My Finnish is a little… uh, rusty. In fact, I've been researching how to read it for only one reason – decoding this online communiqué."

"Excuse me," Conner announced to the busy gift shop. "If anyone speaks English, French or Spanish… I'm looking to get to Nuijamaa and want to know how far it is, how long it will take to get there and what the best route to take would be."

His announcement was repeated in both French and English. The lady behind the counter reached forward and tugged on Conner's blue shirt. "Excuse me, sir," she said in English, "But it's three and a half hours from here, if you take either E18 or E75. It's about two hundred and fifty kilometers. If you have a great deal of money, you can rent a helicopter. My friend did that once for their birthday party but had the pilot fly them around Helsinki."

"Which way is the rental place?"

In weak English, the woman replied, "It's not far – follow the signs for…" She paused then lifted a paw in realization that they wouldn't be able to read the signs. "Wait, I'm due for a lunch break anyhow. I'll show you."

Cooper smiled, delighted by her friendly willingness to help. The girl opened a door behind the counter and disappeared into the employee office. After a short period of time, a gentleman came from the office, taking over at the front register. The lady returned without her work uniform and came around the counter. She waved for them to follow and said, "I hope you can arrange a ride back into town from there. It's a long scenic walk along the Finnish border if you wind up walking." Moments later, a ways down the hall from the gift shop, she lifted a paw and said, "Behold, friends… the rental office. Let them know what you need up front. I'd better get back – I want to grab lunch before I have to return to my shift."

The raccoon teenager clasped her shoulder appreciatively. "Thank you very much, ma'am. You've been a tremendous help. Where did you learn your English from?"

The girl offered a brilliant smile. "Reading Fan Fiction online, as well as text-based role play. All the really saucy boys chat out of Great Britain." Another sly sort of grin then she gestured for him to be on his way. "Nod of head, wave of paw and all that good jazz – take care!" She remembered what she'd seen on the television and added, "Good luck with helping those two people."

He waved for his small group to follow him then disappeared into the helicopter rental office to request delivery of all four people. The gentleman behind the desk in the rental office spoke fluent French, making it easy for Conner to give directions then pay for the airfare…

Cooper and his group were told to wait until a pilot was called in. He turned to his friends and said, "Keep your fingers crossed, gang. Hopefully we'll make it in enough time that nothing will have happened to them."

Next came the voice of reason. "This could be a coincidence on the television. I doubt it's anyone we know in the middle of that mess." He may have lacked suspenders now but in the end, some things didn't change for him. Fear of running into a hot zone was one of those things he retained from his earlier days.

Conner frowned. "That's just it, Winthrop… "I have to be sure… I have the money to waist on this helicopter trip… let's just go take a look and we'll figure things out from there, okay?"

"This is getting old," he murmured in defeat. "I seriously don't want to head into an area that's in the middle of a warzone, right now."

"Then hang back and let the professionals do the work," replied Conner with a smirk. "Don't get in our way and we won't bother you, pal."

"Conner's right," said Dawn. "If the two people in that place _are_ the twins… we could never live with ourselves, knowing we let them down. It's obvious that whoever is in that house right now…. They need us."

Karla placed paws upon her hips. "Well be in public. It'll be difficult to stay low when on camera."

"Then let's get this show on the road," said Dawn, looking about with a shrug. "Worst comes to worst, we'll give'em a SHOW all right."

"Quite so. I have a strong gut feeling about this – I'm ready to blow stuff up, if need be." Conner turned to the counter and began signing a contract while they waited for their pilot. The young team was charged with energy, ready to head to a random, small town on a hunch just to see if their friends were in danger. At the very least, Conner was resolved to help the situation in order to know he did something good again, after all those years of dormancy.

* * *

A/N: _Okay, so Conner and the gang have NO IDEA who is at that little warehouse but they're HOPING that it's BOTH Tiikeri sisters. Now, we the reader know that it's only ONE of the sisters, and some other person. I've ended it on a high note, ready to go into battle. That just means we all know what to expect of the next chapter… The battle! _

_Conner is finally that much closer to getting his team assembled. Now he has to do some more training to get his body back into shape. Penelope appears to have a rapid solution. I THOUGHT I was being original but it turns out that the electrified acupuncture idea is VERY POPULAR in the Middle East, right now. I found out AFTER writing that part of the chapter. My friend's boyfriend is in Iraq right now. She told me that he was injured and that he received Electrified Acupuncture as a treatment, there. So, I researched it… turns out it's popular. So much for feeling original, huh? Kinda' like how I wrote that story back in 2002 about a character named Reno Nevada who was, against his will, endowed with the powers of wielding electricity… then last year Sucker Punch comes out with Infamous. SCREW YOU, COLE! I INVENTED YOU FIRST, stupid not-mine character! BLEH! Lol. _

_Anyhow, one of the reviewers asked if I was making Conner like Cole from Infamous. No, I'm making him like Reno from MY story, back in 2002, but without the gypsies, the sapling from the fruit of the tree of the Knowledge Of Good And Evil, the third-eye hex, getting struck by lightning, and being a beat cop beforehand. Funny how that works, huh? But I tried to give it a good spin as to why it would happen for Conner! I also wrote this chapter a few days ago… and only now do I get the chance to post it! Now to write the next one. _

_We're getting close to the end of the story, then I'll wrap up Reflections of Marcus McCloud, Spy Cooper, The Curse, Claws of Fate, and by the end of the year I'll start rewriting my original stories. Don't worry, I'll post them on FictionPress dot com, FanFiction's sister site. I'll also put time into finishing Reflections of Fox McCloud, continuing the Sly Cooper holiday short stories, Nothing Passed Tomorrow and the Crossover Bandwagon story of Doom, and… all that other stuff. Lol. Reflections of Peppy, yeah… all of it. Lol. _

_But I promised myself I'll put more time and energy into my originals by the end of the year. Michael Crichton was published at 26. Chris Paolini, way too young. I'm STILL jealous, lol. HE will be 26 this November. I'm dyin' here! I wanna be published, too! Lmao. Paolini was born in California, Crichton DIED in California… I've never BEEN to California… but I have some friends who live there! xD_

_However! Crichton was from Ilinois, Paolini graduated highschool through some sort of program located in Ilinois… and I HAVE been to Ilinois, so… YEAH! I'm ALMOST THERE, BABY! Ahem. Don't mind me, I'm in a hyper mood tonight. _

_Don't underestimate me, muwahaha. I've got Nora Roberts' blouse, even though it's creepy that I have a 58 year old's blouse, and I bet her husband, Bruce, could care less. xD_

_How I obtained it is a LONG story involving one of Nora's house parties in Silver Spring. She does this thing where she likes to come up with random fun events for her fellow writer buddies at her house parties… like, for example, "LET'S DO A CLOTHING SWAP! EVERYONE SWAP CLOTHES!" or, something like, "First one to jump in the pool and skinny dip gets a… (random object?)" _

_What the hell am I going to do with Nora's blouse? It's like… black inner layer, and red-and-white paisley outer layer. Nora, if you're reading this… JD ROBB is the bomb, yo'! Go fightin' Irish! Can you help me get published, lady? Can you give me Amy's number? PLEASE! Ahem. Hey, I have writing discipline, too! I spend half my work shift at my desk writing… for the last SEVERAL jobs. I've spent my divorce in front of my laptop, writing… I'm even lying in bed right now… writing! xD Nora, give me a chance – give me your agent's number! Lol. Hey, I tried – right guys? _

_Btw, did I tell you guys that Refletions of the Future surpassed 32k hits? I'm floored. It's only 90 thousand words. I finished it in 90 days time, back in 2005. It STILL gets a TON of hits, almost four years later. THANK you. _

_Okay, I'll hush now – like I said I was in a hyper mood so I'm just… rambling! P-sout!_

_-me_


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter -22-

_May 10__th__, 2029  
Finland_

**The rotors created a breezy confusion of crosswinds**, tossing Conner's hair about. He silently thanked his godmother for cutting his hair the day he woke up last week. He recalled looking in the mirror that first time and not recognizing himself – the length of his hair, alone, was enough to confuse as it was down to his nose in the front and touching his shoulders in the back. Now his hair was short, tousled and manageable. It danced like flames in Savannah grass from where he sat on the metal skid beneath the rental chopper.

In the background, Conner could hear the pilot reprimanding either Karla or Dawn for allowing the teen to sit out on the rails. He couldn't even begin to count his blessings that the rental machine happened to be a Sikorsky Blackhawk. The UH – 60M hovered above a NH90 chopper, done up in gray camouflage, with a Finnish logo atop, behind the cockpit canopy.

One of the military machine operators made a paw-swishing motion, an angry gesture for Conner's group to leave the area. Cooper shouted over his shoulder, "Get us directly above the warehouse, Karla! Say whatever you have to, flash a tit or something!"

"Jesus, Conner – I'm doing my best, here! Just give it a rest; money talks to this guy!"

Conner pushed a paw into his pocket and withdrew a wad of Euros then passed them up to Dawn, who in turn handed them to Karla to use as a sway factor. The bribe worked and, a moment later, the Blackhawk moved closer to the warehouse. The raccoon turned his head back, looking up at his team. "Listen, I'm about to do something stupid. Karla… how good are you at teleporting a moving target?"

She peered down at him and narrowed her gaze as if in a threatening manner. "I redirect bullets, dumbass. Remember? I'm a hell of a lot more practiced than I was back in your father's heyday. What's your idea? Put you on the roof?"

"No, I'm going to try and use momentum to gain an advantage," he replied, shouting over the noise of the engines. "I'm going to jump. Before I hit the ground, I want you to teleport me a foot off the ground, parallel to the surface. I'll tackle my way through the thick of them. Then, I want you to teleport me _again_, and put me _inside_. Can you do that?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"No! If I'd not witnessed you doing the bullet trick, I wouldn't even have asked."

Dawn glanced back at Karla then down at Conner. "This is stupid – do you have a backup plan incase she's just an illusionist?"

"I do," he replied. "But you'll see it if she's not the real thing. We're about to find out, one way or the other – let's just say that Penelope gave me more than dad's clothes and there's something I've been dying to try out. But it stays a secret until I need it." He withdrew his cane and dove off the side of the chopper without further warning.

Dawn gasped, covered her mouth with her paws and backed away from the sliding door, sick to her stomach. Again, she fought with the past, having another flashback of watching Conner get impaled and drop to his 'death'. She crumbled into a chair and began breathing slow and deep so as to fight off the queasiness.

Karla moved into the doorway and kept a sharp eye on Conner's descent. Her eyes narrowed further, seeing the military chopper move in at an unsuspecting angle. Her gaze shifted back to Conner who appeared to move his body in a way that would help him in an attempt to avoid the encroaching, locally made Patria-built helicopter. The felox groaned in frustration. "Military – these buffoons always seem to get in the way at the wrong times." She swatted her left paw with a backhand gesture. Instead of teleporting Conner, the thirty-four million Euro machine disappeared. Karla gritted her teeth then relaxed. A trance-like calm came over her snow-furred visage. It reappeared seconds later at an altitude far higher than the aging Blackhawk.

The confused rental pilot lifted his head, looking up through the glass canopy. "I know that thing can do a hundred 'n sixty knots but what the hell did _I_ just miss – did I _blink_?"

Glad he was speaking in English, Karla replied, "Perhaps, but I know for a fact the pilot of that other thing surely did. Dawn, did you blink? I think everyone present blinked, good sir." She narrowed her gaze once more, watching as Conner's thumbnail sized shadow darted along the ground in approach to his descending body; his tiny little arms raised outward, reaching towards the Earth. Right before the shadow lined up with his form, she swayed her paw again. He disappeared.

Karla's fingers stretched apart then she closed her paw into a fist. Conner reappeared on the ground, his body perpendicular to his previous positioning. From his stored momentum, he reappeared only a foot off the ground, arms extended. His body shot forward, plowing through a line of soldiers, bowling down eight men. Again, the felox waved her paw and Conner disappeared.

She cut her gaze back to the warehouse and held her paw outwards, palm down, fingers extended. The raccoon appeared upon the rooftop in a sudden cloud of dust. "Pilot," she shouted over the engines. "It seems our military 'friends' aren't blocking our path anymore. If I give you more money, could you drop my friend and myself down on that rooftop? From here, you can take your money and head back to Helsinki."

"How much are we talking, here?" he shouted back.

"Enough to take the rest of the month off," she replied, moving towards the cockpit. She handed him the rest of the money Conner had given to Dawn, earlier. Without another word, the Blackhawk lowered towards the two-story warehouse. She then turned to Dawn and said, "You want to stay on the roof? If so, that's fine by me. I can appreciate a pacifist logistics manager."

"I've changed in the last three years," said Dawn. She reached into her windbreaker and withdrew a Glock22. The forty-caliber pistol was olive green with a black top. She clasped her other paw over the onyx slide, drew it back with a satisfying click then lifted the barrel upwards at a ninety-degree angle. "I'm done being pushed around. Eric and that incident in Glasgow was the final straw." She then reached back into the jacket and withdrew a _second_ pistol, a five-chamber black revolver with a rubberized grip. It had a strange look about it, the chamber being several inches in length. She brought her thumb to the hammer and drew it back. "This is the Taurus Judge," she mused, adding, "It's a handgun that shoots shotgun rounds." She then asked, "Can you put me on the rooftop without needing for me to jump off this thing?"

Quite suddenly, Dawn found herself standing on the rooftop besides Conner. He sat up, dusting himself off with a grunt only to blink in surprise, seeing Dawn stand before him with two mismatched looking pistols in her paws. "Chri'sake! I'm a believer," she exclaimed, adding, "C'mon, Conner! The girls probably need our help!"

"Not so fast," came another feminine reply. Karla approached the two raccoons and said, "If you're itching to go at it, Dawn, then you can take point. However, if you're confident with those silly contraptions, then I suggest you hold tight and _cover us_ with them. Do you have spare ammunition?"

"Of course," muttered Dawn, clinching her teeth. Another round of gunfire rang out from below with a volley of reply coming from a window on the second floor, beneath their feet. She turned to Conner then back to Karla and sighed. "That sounds like rifled weapons. This is going to get tricky."

Conner blinked twice. "Since when did you start shooting guns?"

Dawn shook her head. "It was a dating requirement for one of the girls in my past. She was ex-military and wanted me to learn how." She aimed the Glock into the air and extended her other arm, keeping the Judge pointed forward. "It's harder to miss a target when you're firing buckshot." She cut her gaze back to Karla and added, "And I doubt you'd be able to stop all of it, because it's not like a bullet. Buckshot is…"

Karla threw her paws into the air. "I know what 'effing buckshot is, dammit! Are we going to sit up here all day and clown around or are we going to take out the people with guns down on the ground? Let's get to work, then!"

"What's the plan," Dawn asked Conner.

"Karla," said the boy, turning towards both women. He walked away from them, dusting himself off to the best of his ability. "Look, I want you to send out some sort of …shockwave, can you do that? A telekinetic shockwave? It'll knock everyone on the ground so that we can disable them."

"I can," she said. "But expect them to recover quickly. I have a suggestion."

"I'm open," said Cooper.

She cleared her voice, glared at Dawn then looked back up at Conner and said, "Dawn is armed, so are the two people downstairs. I'll teleport her down to the second floor and she can help whoever is down there." She then turned to Dawn and added, "Keep your pistols pointed up so that if you startle them, they see you're not aiming a weapon in their direction. They'll be less likely to shoot at you if it's not the Tiikeri sisters. They'll surely be startled so… just in case."

"What? Last line of defense?"

"You're _armed_, so you're the best suited to protect them because we _both_ know that's what you want to do, so do it by yourself!" shouted Karla.

"Let's stop fighting!" cried Conner at the top of his lungs. "Holy crap, women can be caddy! Seriously! We're a team, so let's work together! Dawn, have you ever _shot_ a person before?"

"No, but I doubt I'll have the chance with your extramarital girlfriend calling the shots."

Conner face-faulted then sighed. "Okay, we don't have time to play this game, today. We've not trained together so we haven't built up any team trust. Last time we fought together, I died and Dawn… you ran away. Karla doesn't trust _us_ because, to her, we're children. We don't trust Karla because her abilities make her a wildcard. Neither of you trust me, because the only thing you guys know I'm capable of doing very well… is dying. Also, you both know that I'm not quite as in shape as I once was. Let's take a damned LEAP OF FAITH, here! The Tiikeri sisters might be in serious trouble!"

Dawn sighed and said, "I'll stay on the roof and cover the entrance points from above, just in case of an emergency. You two head downstairs and check on them after you dispatch the invading force. _Okay_?"

Karla Weasel folded her arms with a smug, satisfied looking grin. "Now you're talking teamwork, Dawn." She jerked a paw towards the edge of the roof. "C'mon, cutie-puff," she murmured to Conner. "We have a score of attackers to dispatch and I plan on weeding through them."

Conner hurried to the edge of the rooftop and peered over the side. "Boy… we have our work cut out for us. I can't believe they took out cops – they must really want to get into this building." He paused for a second then waved Karla over. "Hey, look. What's that?"

Down on the ground, two men were running a colored red and yellow cord. From the rooftop, it looked like a bungee cable, placed around the main doors with a line running to a shiny metal cord along the ground. "What are they doing?" Conner squinted. "I really need to get a binoc-u-com," he murmured. "Wait a second…" He rubbed his chin then frowned, putting his paws on Karla and pushing her away from the ledge. "Get down."

"Pardon?"

"Down!" he hissed. Both took cover behind the rooftop ledge. Dawn, not knowing what they were doing, lowered to her knees as well, just in case. A loud, sharp crack of sound filled the air. As quickly as it started, it was over. Conner got to his feet and said, "Primaline; they blew the doors. They're going to storm the building. We need to get down there, first."

As Conner spoke the last word of his statement, he suddenly found himself on the first floor with Karla in the middle of an old warehouse. The entire room was filled with metal shelves, some of which were bolted into the floor. Around the walls were large cylindrical pillars fitted with enormous metal turnbuckles. The doors at the end of the row fell away from the doorframe, slowly creaking forward. It tipped inward then came crashing down on the floor with a miasma of smoke. Conner shoved Karla into a row of shelving and dove away from her, getting low.

The smoke cleared and six soldiers poured through with Kalashnikov assault rifles drawn. They hunched over, knees bent and heads low, moving into the room like a highly trained special operation's team.

Across from him, Karla stood up, dusted herself off and stepped out into the main row, clearing her throat audibly. Everyone lifted their weapons, but even her stark physical attractiveness wasn't enough to compete with their training. Without delay, the assault team lifted their rifles, delivering a short burst of gunfire. Karla Weasel didn't flinch. The gunshots struck the wall at the far end of the warehouse, behind her.

"She's a hologram," one of them replied. "Clever distraction – move forward."

"My dear boys, I'm no hologram," said Karla. She lifted her arms like a symphony conductor. With a flit of her left paw, three men went sailing into the far west wall. With a backhanded gesture from her right paw, the other three men went sailing into the east wall. She lifted both of her paws, palms up, fingers curling into a semi-fist. Their weapons disappeared from their paws. She then brought both of her paws down as if directing an unseen orchestra to decrescendo. The attackers' sidearm disappeared.

Fully amusing herself, Karla began conducting with just her right index finger, waggling it through the air from left to right. One by one, each soldier's radio disappeared. She then brought her paws together, index fingers outstretched, and then she opened her arms with a flail of finality as though ending the musical masterpiece. On that gesture, the three men on the left sailed far to the right until striking the opposite wall, while the men on the east wall went careening across the open foyer and into the far west wall. They slumped to the ground in silence. "Dawn won't even know what to do with all the weapons and gear sitting up on the roof."

Before she could celebrate, another wave of men rushed through the doors. "For the love of Mozart," she grumbled. They opened fire on her immediately. The felox disappeared before the rounds could hit her.

"Where'd she go!" shouted the soldier on point. He gestured to the four other men behind him to break into groups of two and move to the left and right. He slowly began moving forward, up the center aisle. As soon as he passed Conner's hiding spot, a golden cane came from out of nowhere, catching his ankles.

Cooper followed in his father's footsteps, bringing the cane upwards in a sharp motion. The hooked end struck beneath the man's chin but caught on the straps that held his gear vest. Conner followed through, lifting the man straight up then he pivoted and threw him back to the floor in suplex fashion but with the intensified leverage of his lengthy cane, providing incredible force.

Another man rushed towards the raccoon, drawing his rifle up. Cooper brought his cane upwards, snagging the rifle by its trigger guard. He pinched it from the man's paw then followed through by reaching his free left hand out and gripping the man by his shoulder. The raccoon's fingers squeezed, adding painful pressure in the man's Deltoid muscle. Conner then brought his right knee up, catching the man in his gut. The soldier doubled over in time to meet Conner's knee with renewed force to the face.

He threw two punches, catching Conner in the gut. The raccoon lifted his cane, gun attached at the hook, then jerked it down, striking the man in the back of his head. Suddenly, Conner found himself _behind_ the man, having been teleported. He lifted his cane again then brought it down like a wood chopping axe, bludgeoning the attacker.

"Thanks!" he called out, an amateur mistake.

Karla shouted a reply. "Cheers! Behind you!" She redirected her attention to a man that was reaching for her throat. The felox teleported, returning to the physical plane, perched on the man's shoulders. She had his neck between her ankles and jumped gracefully from his back. She landed the acrobatic maneuver by crouching atop of one of the shelves. The man turned about and lifted his gun.

Karla disappeared once more but her echoing laughter reverberated throughout the room in an eerie fashion. She reappeared back by Conner and shouted, "Too slow on the trigger finger!" The man turned about, pointed his weapon and fired it. Again, Karla disappeared, taking Conner along with her. Both of them reappeared, sitting atop of a bookshelf. They watched as Karla's opponent shot his own teammate. He released the trigger then broke into a sprint, hurrying to the aid of his fallen comrade. Karla called out from above, "You've really done it this time – you've wounded your own mate!"

Conner shook his head slowly. In a soft voice, he asked, "You're _really_ enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" she giggled gleefully. Her expression suddenly dulled. "Aw Christ, will you look at this nuisance?" She nodded forward, directing the raccoon's attention to an incoming orange glow. The fur of his tail fluffed up and his breath caught. The felox, however, remained calm and simply shook her head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk… an RPG? How unoriginal." The fiery projectile continued through the doorway and down the main aisle of empty metal shelves.

"Uh… Karla… aren't you going to do something?" he asked in a demanding voice.

"I already have," she said in a soft tone. The rocket propelled object slammed into the back wall. It slanted down, striking the floor then began to spin around wildly only to take off along the right, to the rear corner of the warehouse. It then shot up that wall and arced back, spinning about again. It hit one of the bookshelves, went through an opening and began to bounce around inside the shelved area before taking off to the floor again. After a moment the grand display ended and the fiery show died down. She lifted her manicured nails, inspecting them. "I teleported the little device that detonates."

"…Where… where did you put it?" he asked, leaning forward to try and see her expression as she looked away casually. "Karla…?"

"Where do you think?" she asked. Before an answer could be given, an explosion flashed outside, followed by a blast of dirt and loose foliage that spewed in over the fallen front door. A smile crept across her face as she turned back towards him. "And now you know."

"Karla, I thought you had to _see_ the object."

She gawked at him as if in disbelief. "What kind of eyes do you think Stephan gave me? I sure as hell can't see a bullet, Conner." Her head tilted as though glaring at him. "Seriously, what kind of abilities do you think I have? I couldn't see the first floor but I teleported us here from the roof, right?"

"So how does it work?"

"Some luck, some skill. Don't get me wrong – I've made mistakes and put people halfway into a bulkhead before. No one's perfect, dear. But I have some measure of logic and reason… I can teleport in the blink of an eye, so I arrived down here a split second before you did and made sure to place you somewhere safe. Me? I teleported myself to a location approximately eight feet from the ground. I freefall for a fraction of a second then reposition myself on the floor… why ever would I want to arrive here eight feet off the ground? Just in case, so I don't appear inside of an object, of course."

"I… have nothing to add to that. You're the master at that stuff. I'm definitely a believer now – you're no illusionist."

"No," she said, grimacing in mock humiliation. "Apparently I'm a _hologram_, now. There are many more guys outside. I don't have all day. Let's finish these fools off. Dawn should have a small arsenal topside, now. Let's finish this." She lifted a paw into the air and one of the weapons on the recently fallen soldiers appeared in her paw. "Teleportation and telekinesis is tiring, dear. Let's just get this over with." She then waved a paw and another assault rifle appeared in Conner's lap. "I think there are at least a dozen men remaining. The question is… do they storm the place, try to blow it up again, or run away."

Conner leapt from the shelf, cane in one hand, gun in the other. He planted his foot into the turnbuckle of a nearby pillar then back flipped from it. He landed on the ground, crouched and ready but the look on his face told another story. "I can't do this much more… I'm worn out. I'm running on adrenaline and my body is aching like I just…"

"Shh, sweetie, I know you're feeling lousy – you're not in shape yet. But you're doing well! I'm _very_ impressed by your endurance, love." She then disappeared only to reappear on the ground, sauntering towards the front doors. "Let's see who is left." She boldly approached the entrance, assault rifle slung back over her shoulder, diagonally pointed upwards. "Mmm, I sure hope they stayed to play a big longer. _ I'm_ certainly not too tired to have more fun."

"This is my fight and you're here doing all the work."

"Pish posh." She stood in the doorway, atop of the fallen metal door, preening like a pinup poster girl – a centerfold for an issue of _Guns and Ammo_. Her vanilla fur rustled softly in the gentle spring breeze. Her twin emerald hues, mirthful mint confections, panned from left to right, sizing up the remainder of their foes. Her skirt swayed about, brushing against her knees and occasionally offering a hint of creamy thigh. Her tail swayed behind her and a dazzling smile complimented the coquettish expression, complete with golden sundrenched locks of hair covering her right eye. She drew in a deep breath and in a soprano tone, called to the armed men out front. "I speak _three_ languages. English, French and _passion_. Are we going to need a translator here or are you boys following me so far?"

The mercenaries kept their weapons trained on her; no one replied. Karla reached to the belt at the top of her skirt and pulled sunglasses from her hip. She jerked her paw outward flipping the glasses open then lifted them to her snout. Fur-matching white sunshades were placed delicately upon the bridge of her nose then she used a scarlet-painted fingernail to ease them up a bit until her eyes were covered. "Isn't this the part where you boys fall back and tell your superiors that you were outnumbered and outgunned? Just leave out the part where you were beat by a woman to save face, okay? Don't worry, boys… I'll keep your secret safe."

A volley of gunshots rang out from above. Karla lifted her head, able to see muzzle fire from over the edge of the rooftop. She lowered her gaze, watching as several remaining soldiers dropped to the ground where they stood. A few broke away from their comrades, falling back into the woods at the edge of the small property. She turned about and walked back inside. The felox lifted a paw to Conner and tossed her assault rifle on the floor, carelessly. "Dawn stepped up and took charge. Good for her, hmm? Now, let's see who is upstairs." She waggled her finger at Conner, said, "Heel to me," and abruptly teleported him to the stairway.

Together, the two of them ascended the staircase and opened a rusting metal door at the top of the steps. The second floor resembled an old apartment by the nature of its layout. However, it appeared that the mock apartment had not been maintained in ages. Peeling paint, blotches in the stucco, the warped and creaky floorboards, as well as the lack of décor gave the setting a dated and mortal appearance.

Two people stepped into the hallway, armed with an assault rifle and a shotgun. Karla's left brow raised high. She cut her gaze to a female tiger and said, "You I've never seen before, but _you_," she continued, addressing the male skunk adjacent to Keri Tiikeri. The lush felox smirked and withdrew her white sunshades. "You, my dear sir… I know you _very_ well, Stephan."

Conner came through the doorway behind Karla, looking from Keri to the man then back to Keri. He placed a paw on Karla's shoulder and addressed the pair at the end of the hallway. "Better known as _Niall_." A smile formed. "Hello, Keri. I'm glad you're okay."

The skunk's muzzle contorted – a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Niall," he repeated, lowering his shotgun. "There's a name I've not heard in a _very,_ very long time." He handed the gun to Keri and walked down the hallway to Conner and Karla. He approached the raccoon and looked him over. "Cooper, you look even _younger_ than before? How do you do it? Cosmetic surgery – seems a bit beyond you, doesn't it?"

"We've never met," said Conner. "You wouldn't be the first person to tell me that I look just like my father. I hear people used to mistake him for my grandfather."

Stephan placed his palm beneath Cooper's jaw, turning the raccoon's head from left to right to look the boy over. "Striking similarities indeed. Was your mother _not_ a fox?"

"Her features are more prevalent in my sister. All I got from my mother was her temper. As for vulpine features… I only got a few – nothing you'd be able to tell at first glance."

Karla brought a paw to her maw to hide her grin. "Oh my – say no more, my dear boy."

Keri furrowed her brows at the felox then approached the trio. She laid her guns up against the wall and opened her arms to Conner. The two embraced in silence. After a moment, they relinquished the hug and Tiikeri glanced back at Karla in confusion. "I don't understand what she means. Anyhow, I'm glad you're awake, Conner. I had a feeling – I'm glad it was you that showed up."

Karla Weasel cleared her throat. Reverting to the prior subject, she explained, "Canid males, including foxes, have a knotted…"

"Karla!" Conner hissed in a whisper.

Keri smirked as though somehow challenged by the felox. She shrugged and said, "Feline males have studded ones. Big deal."

"Then my son is going to be the talk of the town as he'll most undoubtedly have both traits when he's older; I'm Karla Weasel. You must be _one_ of the Tiikeri sisters Conner spoke of." She reached towards the tigress and offered a paw. They shook as if putting on a show in front of the men to look dignified.

"I'm Keri."

Stephan turned to his genetic creation and patted her shoulder. "Fascinating! And to think I was surprised to see you awake… But to learn that you have a _son_? Fantastic! What is he like?"

Karla released the other woman's paw and turned to the skunk with a broad smile. She knew exactly how to heighten his excitement and said, "My gestation period lasted only to the second trimester of an average woman." She watched his face light up and grinned in reply then continued. "He was born fully developed with fur, hair and open eyes – very uncommon for a weasel. He started walking at seven months and talking at nine months. He was at full sentences by fourteen months – I named him Donovan and he's _gorgeous_. He has his father's generously soft, lovely fur. He has my general traits, half fox – half feline… he's curious and fearless like a weasel, clever like a fox and graceful like a cat. He's holding full, intelligent conversation and thinks before speaking or acting. And _my_ you should hear him speak – he's amazing."

"Weasel's are fearless?" Conner raised a brow. "Weasels as in the species, not the surname, right?"

Karla cut her gaze to the raccoon with a smirk. "Cute. Yes, most weasels will fight a bear or a porcupine without even considering the consequences. ...When I first met him, Winthrop was different. He'd not lived up to his potential yet. It's possible he's simply a late bloomer."

Conner lifted both of his paws with a shrug. "Whatever. He's …whatever." The teen dropped his paws at his sides.

"Why? Are you jealous of him?" Karla's smirk evolved into a toothy grin.

"Whoa," Keri murmured. "High school drama is best left in the auditorium as an extra curricular activity, boys and girls. Have mercy."

Conner spoke over Tiikeri, telling Karla, "_MY_ girl is up on the roof. I'm not jealous of you _or_ Winthrop. I just think with all the flirting you do that you must not be in love with him or you wouldn't _want_ to flirt with anyone else. But it's cool – you know where I stand on this." He then turned away from Karla to face Stephan and Keri. Quite suddenly, he offered a polite smile. "We came here because you guys were on television. We came to Finland looking for you and DJ," he told the tigress. "But it looked like you had your paws full with those guys downstairs. What's that all about anyhow? …And where is DJ?"

Keri placed a paw on Stephan's forearm to stop him from speaking first. "You see, Conner, I don't even know where Debbie Jean is hiding… I sent a message asking for _her_ aid… I was hoping she would be local but… the truth is I've not seen her in months." She shifted topic and said, "These guys are working for the people who took _you_ down, Conner. Somehow, they tracked us down – possibly because we've been doing online research to find the remaining artifacts to finish what _you_ started a few years ago."

"Seriously? How did you know all the background history? _ I_ didn't even know I was looking for this until we parted ways in Miami."

She stepped in front of Stephan, making her conversation with Conner more personal. "When you went down, I kept in contact with Dawn for a little while. She explained everything. I even saw her a few times while visiting you in Paris. You slept for _three years_; that's one hell of a long time. I bet your hair was down your back."

The raccoon shook his head. "It was hardly to my shoulders. They must groom you from time to time in hospitals or something. I didn't have a beard or anything." He chuckled inwardly in spite of himself. "Just fuller chest fur, a deeper voice and key parts of my body were bigger than I remembered – like my _paws_ for example." He cut his gaze back at Karla then turned back to Keri and shrugged. "I guess I received vitamins and stuff… Because I had a growth spurt while I was out of commission… so yeah… None of my clothes or my shoes really fit anymore. That was weird, let me tell ya'."

"What's the story with your family; why didn't _they_ come for you?"

Conner's expression dimmed. "Penelope says they're all dead," he muttered disdainfully. "I need to know for sure – Doctor Moreau has a lot of balls to kill his hostages. Every villain knows that hostages are insurance… and if he's as smart as they say he is… I'm _hoping_… I'm _praying_ that he's kept them as hostages."

Karla shook her head slowly. "Your father would have figured a way to escape by now. It's in his nature. We've not see him, so…"

Stephan placed his paw on Karla's arm. "Moreau is behind this, Conner? How can you confirm such?" He rephrased his last question. "How…?" The memphit rolled his paw, looking for the right way to word his inquiry. "How… can you be sure?"

"Bentley's mobile spy-cam broadcasted live feed that got back to Penelope… and it streamed live feed until they were taken out. She thinks they may have been put into gas chambers and dispatched that way… then jettisoned from the chamber and into the sea."

The memphit appeared confused. "When did this camera stop transmitting?"

"Almost as soon as they were put into the chamber."

A grin illuminated the skunk's features. "Cameras need not breathe. And if the glass chamber were somehow designed to repel reception of this camera device, it would have resumed transmitting as soon as they were jettisoned. This sounds more like something that would destroy the battery and end the transmission completely… Hmm, that makes me wonder if Bentley is still in said tube, let alone all of them… Out of curiosity, what other use can come of said glass tube?" He turned to Karla and patted her shoulder. "Cryogenic stasis, of course." His tone calmed and he glanced back at Conner. "I'm not telling you to get your hopes up, young man. You need to be strong enough to finish this alone."

"They're not clones," he said. "Can they survive that kind of cold? I don't know much about that technology. Heck, I don't even know why you created Karla, yet here I am – you know…? – trusting my life to her. I guess I'm pretty naïve to a lot of things."

"Yes, your parents can survive being frozen – anyone can survive that if they're brought to absolute stasis in a rapid time frame. The question is, will the thawing process be performed correctly to allow their bodies to be revived." The skunk took a long, slow breath and frowned, glancing back at Karla. He paused then turned to Conner and shook his head. "Your other question is a bit complicated so please understand that. There are two reasons I created Karla. One reason was because the committee who appointed Sire to find those artifacts at ANY cost… they also wanted certain people to help him. Karla, Donovan and Reaper were chosen as his team. For that, Karla would need to be revived. But Sire hired me as part of his plan. He asked me to rebuild Clockwerk and to create Karla differently than her original DNA…

"I have a confession – initially, I designed Karla to be _your_ mother so that you would be endowed with fantastic genetics, making you capable of finding the remaining artifacts alone at a young age without question. Things happened differently and your father rejected my perfectly created mate. However, that doesn't mean _you_'re incapable in any way, shape or form – you will prove to be pivotal in helping us secure this artifact. I need you to stay focused and do not dwell on whether or not your family is dead. You will learn of their fate in due time and we shall react to the situation when it occurs." He then turned to Karla and offered her an intensely brilliant smile, something Keri had yet to see from the skunk before now.

Stephan drew the felox close and hugged her. "You're everything I hoped my technology could create and then some! I would _love_ to meet your son one day. The offspring of a man and a clone. Incredible. I would want tissue samples to ensure that his genetic makeup is not degrading and that the DNA code remains perfect and intact. This technology has endless applications. If the world were to end, it could be repopulated; if a grief stricken family is unable to let go of a dead offspring, they could be brought back to live a normal life."

Karla quirked a single brow again. "Initially you said I would never age. Look at me. I've grown, I've aged and I've physically matured." She gently pried herself from her creator.

"There is time later for the explanation. We shouldn't stay in this location. I admit I'm surprised that you came to rescue us. Karla, have your abilities matured as well?"

"Yes. It evolves with practice and focus. My abilities increase or decrease depending on my mood, my diet and my monthly cycle."

"You mentioned a shorter gestation period – how long does your period last, if you don't mind my asking?"

Karla quirked a brow then said, "A single day." She fidgeted somewhat then said, "The state of my mental wellbeing has a direct effect on _everything_ I'm capable of doing. It's the difference between stopping a round of bullets in mid air and stopping five hundred pellets of buckshot in mid air. If I get excited, I lose potency because it requires focus and discipline."

"Which is probably a _good_ thing," Conner mused with a smirk. "It would be bad if you got excited and flipped your house over in mid-orgasm." He backed away from her, expecting to be swatted at. The teenager nodded towards the door. "Dawn is still upstairs, waiting for us."

"She's here?" asked Keri.

Karla, on the other hand, glared at Conner. "That was almost clever. _Almost_." She turned back to Stephan and asked, "I've gone three years, plagued by curiosity, Stephan. I want answers. _Why_ am I aging? I was told I wasn't going to age."

The group began to gravitate towards the door, following Conner's lead. Stephan fell into step with Karla and took her left paw, inspecting the ring and wedding band. "Are you satisfied to grow old with this mate of yours? Are you satisfied that you'll always be physically older than your offspring, or did you _want_ them to surpass you one day, grow old and die? Did you _want _to burry your spouse and your children?"

"I _didn't_ say I was _upset_ about aging," she said, following Conner and Tiikeri down the steps, back to the empty warehouse section of the building. "I just wanted to know why you lied to me – I want answers."

Stephan placed a paw at her mid back. "My dear, I never lied to you. Deactivating the genetic marker – your aging gene – is complicated. It means that your body continues to manufacture skin cells and equalized hormonal levels so that you grow your hair and your fur and your claws and everything else… the same way… for the rest of your days. You'll always look young and attractive. I performed that genetic engineering on your first cloned body… but you were killed. When we moved your wraith-ly soul into the backup body, it was designed to be mortal. I felt if you were a failure, I didn't want you to live for eternity because an immortal flaw could potentially become a burden."

"A flaw, huh?" She twirled the white-tinted sunglasses in her paw by its left end.

The skunk continued his story. "Then Carmelita threw you into liquid nitrogen. Your wraith transferred to another body, so that we could continue to utilize your aid were you to meet your demise… That body was beheaded. I only created three. I thought you were destroyed completely. Imagine my surprise when combing through the ruins of the castle lab and finding your second body frozen and completely intact. It was a shame your other form had the head separated from the body."

Karla winced at the memory. "I remember all of it." She cleared her throat, catching a glimpse of Conner's eyes each time he occasionally glanced back at her. The group continued out across the main row in the center of the first floor. They headed towards the doorway. "So that means I'm back in my second body because you rescued it… but technically I'm a _failure_?"

"No, I am," he replied in a firm tone. "I made multiple cloned bodies in case your DNA wasn't perfect. If you slowly came apart on the cellular level, there would be no point in forcing you to live forever as a degenerate, right? I felt that if your first body became physically flawed… say, for example, if you were to develop cancer… then why make the second or third body immortal? Why should I do all the extra work? Eventually those backup bodies, exact clones, would fail from the same problems, should you have had something like cancer – however we would have had a larger window of time to fix it for the second and third body… at the very least you would have been able to live long enough to finish your work. The thought of you being _killed_ was never even a consideration at first."

"Indeed, yet that is what happened to me. My first body wasn't as immortal as we had hoped, now was it?"

He frowned. "My dear, ageless doesn't mean immortal… if you took a bullet, you would die… so I kept the spare bodies in stasis… just in case _anything_ would happen to you. I even tested the technology on a clone of myself _first_. However, I foolishly also never anticipated that you would be an insane murderous lunatic, which brings me to another question. MY curiosity now needs to be satisfied… I'm quite interested in finding out _why_ you're aiding the protagonists instead of gleefully ruining everything you can."

Karla balked in surprise to his words. "I'm a mother, a wife and I'm trying to make the world a better place for my son so he has a future. Stop being a judgmental asshole; I'm a lady and I have _feelings_. You should know – you made me with more estrogen and testosterone than my biological body from the middle ages. Besides, you didn't create me with the ability to shut out Sire's goddamn abilities! Furthermore, where'd you get the DNA from, anyhow? I want to know where my real body is buried."

"It was provided to me by Sire. I do not know. However," he said with a smile. "To me, you were just a creation." He then added, "A lovely creation, perfect in every conceivable way. You're sexually superior, physically as well as medically superior to natural women and you're designed to rapidly bare Sly Cooper's child so that we could have utilized the perfect child of a Master Thief. It would have helped us gather the remaining artifacts quickly without said thief stopping to question our authority or reasons. In the end, it was a failed experiment but at the time we convinced ourselves that we needed this person born specifically to find these artifacts for us. They had to be trained and brought up with superior abilities because _no one else_ could manage finding them all."

Conner rolled his eyes, turned about and said, "Someone already _has_ found them all. And that guy is FAR from perfect. Karla is a good mother, despite her lack of self-confidence in that field. She and I do not see eye to eye but without her, all of you – including myself – would be dead right now. So give her a break."

Keri approached the fallen door and moved to the wall, peering outside at an angle. "I think what Stephan is trying to say is… he can relate to Mary Shelly's novel, Frankenstein's Monster. His creation turned evil and now he's questioning why, after only a few years, she's suddenly righteous? Like me, he needs to know if he can trust her. Apparently he's seen her dark side in the past."

"The guru?" Conner shrugged. "Didn't he get inside of you?"

The felox cleared her throat then chuckled nervously. "He still does from time to time." She face faulted then narrowed her gaze and said, "Not the way _you_ are thinking."

"Pardon?" The raccoon moved to the wall opposite of Keri and peered outside at a reverse angle from the tigress. He gestured to her that everything was all clear. "You still talk to him?"

"He's sort of like my psychiatrist," explained the youthful looking half-breed. "I see him once a season and we meditate together. When I first woke up, I was filled with the same base rage I experienced at the time I was… how you say, 'killed' for lack of a better term. Anyhow," she cleared her throat yet again then said, "He somehow purged a lot of hate and misunderstanding from my heart and my head. He's a guru for a good reason. He's also a psychedelic pioneer who explores the plains of a trip-like trance. A _sober_ trip. He achieves it by tapping into that part of the mind. It's like the sixties but… different. Everyone else requires drugs to reach the same level, but then they're not sober or mentally conscious enough to understand it… and so they never go beyond watching it play out before their eyes. His ability to see into the Dreamtime reality beyond the wall of standard reality… it's given him an understanding of life beyond what _our_ comprehension is."

"Uh." Conner removed his cane from the holster on his back. "That's pretty over the top, Karla. You guys get high together on mental vibes alone?"

"He's helped me to understand _my_ meaning," she said, growing defensive. "One of the artifacts he used to guard was one of the necessary components for Moreau to complete his collection. It was a negative artifact because it caused people to become violet… but it was polar in that it would have been used to control the other artifacts. And now that it's gone… it cannot equalize the negative effects of the other remaining artifacts… so, when they're gathered without this mask present… it will cause negative effects _instead_ of positive ones – for example, deadly weather beyond comprehension. NOTHING good can come from gathering all of these things, especially without the Mask of Dark Earth being part of the mix. I thought I could try and ignore it, though… and now I know I can't… so I'm taking his advice and doing what I'm able to stop this… and that's why I'm here with you instead of my _family_."

"Can we ramble on about this later? I just…" Cooper trailed off with a shrug. "Dreamtime and Masks of Dark Earth and… it's just… too much right now. I'm not receptive enough to deal with all of this at the moment. Let's get Dawn and get the hell out of here."

Stephan stepped outside and into the sunlight. "We all must work together to separate whatever artifacts remain in the physical world."

Conner followed after him, along with Keri and Karla. He fell into step besides the memphit and said, "There's only one left. We just need to know what it is, where it is and how to obtain it before Moreau or his men."

"Bring down your friend from the rooftop." Stephan shook his head slowly. "We have work to do. And if you've truly been in a three year coma, you have a great deal of training to do while the rest of us work on locating this artifact – there has to be some reason why Moreau doesn't have it yet… but how do you know that he has all the rest?"

"The spy cam," said Conner. "Whatever they said in proximity to Bentley, before it went dead, was passed on and recorded by Penelope's computers. Moreau said he only needs one last piece."

"Indeed," murmured the skunk. "The last time they were all brought together, fifty-two hundred years ago, there was a tremendous cataclysm that changed the world from an enlightened utopia to a place void of technology and intelligence. In these last five thousand years, the world hasn't come close to where it was back then."

The raccoon returned a semi-confused look. "Uhm… whatever you say. I didn't realize you were such an expert archeologist, too." Conner walked out in front of the building, near one of the police cars. He waved at Dawn. "C'mon down!" he shouted up to her then turned to the rest of them.

Karla waved a paw and Dawn appeared next to Conner. She looked somewhat dazed from the sudden, unexpected teleportation. The teen put her paw on Conner's shoulder to stabilize herself. "I'll never get used to that."

Cooper placed a paw upon the small of her back, as if to offer himself as an anchor of physical stability. "Now that the shooting has subsided, the police are going to return and swarm this place. The mobile Crime Scene lab is going to get fur, hair and prints from all of us – not much we can do about it right now." His head lifted further, glancing up at the returning news chopper. "Heads down; don't let them see your face. If they recognize it, that gives Moreau an advantage. It's bad enough that he may see this cane on my back and recognize it." Everyone moved towards the trees. Conner waited by the edge of the property to ensure that they weren't followed. After a few moments they all disappeared into the foliage, following Keri Tiikeri.

The tigress announced, "I have a van in a storage shed. It's about two kilometers due east. Everyone will have to pile in the back, it only has two seats up front."

* * *

_Friday, June 1__st__, 2029  
Five a.m.  
Riviera Drive, Key West, Florida_

**He stood in the window**. The raccoon folded his arms across his chest, watching an airplane take off practically across the street. He turned back to the rental studio. The two-story flat had soft flooring on the first level and Karla lay on the ground in a leotard, stretching to prepare for another training session.

Cooper turned back to the dark sky. To the right, the eastern sunlight was only starting to bring about a hint of a glow in the horizon. "It's going to be a clear day, today," he mused. "You'll be able to see La Habana in the distance from a tall building, I bet." The raccoon stretched his back, paws above his head with a soft grunt. "You ready yet?"

"Give me a moment," she replied, continuing her stretches. Their gaze met in the reflection of the glass. She smirked at Conner who smirked in reply, keeping his eyes to the south-facing window. "Are you _still_ considering a relationship with Dawn? It's been weeks – why aren't you guys official? Y'know, you don't have to go through life single, while you wait for her, Conner."

"Aren't you _still_ married?" He paused then added, "I see you're not wearing your rings."

Karla lifted her left paw and wiggled her fingers, which he saw in the reflection. She sat up then arched her back gracefully. "Winthrop has become more confident than I realized, Conner. _He_ asked for a temporary separation. Not everyone has a fairytale relationship. He claims its because he thinks I'm disrespecting him and our marriage by going on a _suicide_ mission. It requires me to be away from him and Donovan for a lengthy period of time…"

"I can kinda' understand his perspective."

She groused softly, under her breath, then said, "He says saving the world isn't my problem and so I should be a good little wife and come home. Well, he disrespects my decision. With an attitude like that, it makes me want to be here even more. When he gets his head out of his ass, I'll be ready to work things out with him. And if I find out he's doing this crap so he can see other girls now that he's confident in himself… well… let me tell you… He'll get a foot where the sun doesn't shine. There… now are you satisfied? I'm putting your little mission of mercy and your friends and yes, even _you_, ahead of my own marriage and responsibilities of motherhood. Don't thank me all at once."

Conner turned away from the window and placed his paws upon his hips. "I'm not forcing you to stay here."

"If you tried, I'd leave."

"See that, you're easy to control." Cooper shook his head, approaching her. "You're so subconsciously bent out of shape about that Sire guy controlling you… that you go out of your way to go against the will of others. If I DEMANDED you to help me, you'd go out of your way NOT to help me. But if the fate of the world were to lie at our feet, would you put up with my demands long enough to do the world a favor? Or would you walk, just to prove a point… a point that sounds silly: '_No one tells Karla what to do, else Karla will go out of her way to tell them to take a hike_.' Is that about right? Why should I thank you? You said you're here to make a future for your son. If anything, _I_ am helping _you_ with _your_ mission to make a future for your son. You're just training me so that I'm more helpful to you, right?" He stopped directly in front of her, tapping his right foot. "Whether or not the guru made you any less deranged still doesn't change the fact that you're selfish. You always have been." He paused, lifted a paw and, in a softer voice, said, "I would completely understand if you left here for a week and went home to Winthrop and Donovan. I would completely understand it if you invited them to stay here for a little while. We have this place to ourselves. It's five people in a thirty-six room flat surrounded by crystal clear water. They could vacation here while we get ourselves ready."

Karla sighed. "And this place will be under water again with the next big storm. I'm not bringing my kid somewhere that could get him killed. And yes, I _am_ selfish. I look out for my friends and _me_. I expect my friends to look out for me. _No one else_ in the world is going to do that. I have to do for _myself_."

"But you're selfish towards your friends."

She didn't say anything.

Conner sighed and continued. "I appreciate all you've done for me and my friends. I don't appreciate your advances but I tolerate it. You're a married woman with a family. I _don't_ want the flirty-ness. Whatever little short-lived love triangle we _almost_ had three years ago… that's gone, now."

"And you're so honorable because you don't want to hurt Winthrop or my family, right? That makes you _so_ manly."

Conner sighed and shook his head. He turned to walk back towards the window. "I'm doing it out of _self respect_. I don't want the drama in my life of messing around with two women."

"You didn't push me away three years ago when you were getting close to Dawn."

Cooper chuckled with a shake of his head. He rested his arms on the banister, looking back out the window, towards the airport to the south. "I was fourteen. Young, dumb and naïve. You're attractive and I have a penis. Yeah, I was a little receptive to the flirting but now you're married and I'm more focused."

"I'm separated," she reminded him. "Let's get started – it's time you go through your end-of-the-week review. It's Friday; we'll go over everything you learned all at once. Are you ready to defend yourself?"

"You're not going to hold back again, are you?"

"Like I did _last_ Friday? You had a headache, remember?"

He turned around and glared at her. "If I have a headache the day I'm fighting Doctor M., is _he_ going to go easy on me?" He shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "Okay, let's do this for real. What're the rules – fight until one of us is unconscious?"

"Yes, if I render you unconscious, by _any_ means necessary, then tonight _you_ cook _me_ dinner, _and_ you'll have another early practice tomorrow… so you're fighting to earn the right to sleep in. You have to last until I decide the fight is over or unless you manage to take me down, heh. Oh, and Conner…"

"Yeah?"

"You tend to go easy on _me_, too."

"It's hard to swing my cane at you – you're a mother for crap sake Karla."

Her dulcet emerald gaze lifted then rolled. "Do you remember when Keri twisted her ankle on Tuesday? What happened?"

Conner's ears lowered. "Niall put her in some sort of physical therapy for two hours… and she was fine after that."

Karla got to her feet, pushing her fingers back through her golden bangs. "She had a hairline fracture, Conner. Get with the program like everyone else… one of your teammates had a broken bone; you should have those kinds of details when it involves your team. Anyhow, it's fully mended. If you crack me on the head or break my arm… he can produce the technology to mend me… you, too. You _do realize_ how old he is, right?"

"Who cares? So what, he's a tech prodigy. He reprogrammed all of our cell phones so that they work on any and every transmitting tower from any provider by installing some little chip… that he made last week in his spare time. If he was such a fantastic guy, he'd have already stopped Moreau, except that… oh, _wait_… he's the smart guy who HELPED Moreau, back in the late twentieth century! Nobody is perfect – I don't care if he can mend a broken bone quickly – I don't like knocking your ass out with my cane, okay?"

"Conner, don't be an idiot. What if Moreau used holographic technology to fight you? What if the hologram looked like your mother? Seriously, you need to take these sessions seriously or I'm going to wipe the floor with you."

"So far, the _only_ time you've beat me was a _technical_ knock out on our third day, earlier last month. I've got my strength back and I'm ready. You only have some tennis balls to throw at me, and I'm good at guessing where you'll materialize when you teleport. I think you're selfish _and_ over confident. I'm not saying I'm the best… but I think you underestimate me and overestimate yourself."

"Put your money where your muzzle is, kiddo." She offered an eerie sort of smile. "I could smother you in a sleeper hold you'd never forget if I wanted… I'd do it without even moving or giving you a chance. But the reason I don't fight like that… is because any other enemy WILL give you a chance to fight. You'll _never_ fight someone with my abilities – so I _don't_ go hard on you. It's unfair because you simply cannot win in a fight with _me_."

"I heard my mother kicked your tail more than once." He grinned then took his cane off a hanger on the wall opposite of the large window. "If you can be beat by a girl with a shock pistol, I could mop the floor with you when I'm back at my absolute best."

Karla snorted. "I was a cloned teenage girl, Conner. I'd not even been alive, out of my tube, for more than a year and a half. It's been three years since then. I've increased by abilities exponentially. To my knowledge, there's only one supernatural left alive who could wipe the floor with me without even trying. His name is Raul Sergio Poliandro and he controls time with his understanding of all things temporal. It's impossible to stop a man who can stop time _then_ kill you while you're standing there."

"Why doesn't he fight with us?"

"There are apparently some sort of rules to controlling linear time and space. But I heard that he did aid your mother at some point. I don't know how true that is… but he is forbidden to interfere with our problems unless he vowed against using his abilities… he can't die, receive injury or age so it would make no sense to get involved, since he's forbidden from using his abilities for _any_ reason. So, instead, he _protects_ linear time from people seeking to harm or change it."

"My mother never mentioned him."

"She wouldn't," said Karla. "There was two of her… I saw them with my own eyes. I personally took down your mother's doppelganger because she was mentally and physically fatigued – don't be upset with me, I was ordered to do so by Sire. Sire's supernatural ability is the power to make you do whatever he tells you to do. Raul aided Carmelita but he couldn't intervene to save her. She gave her life to change time so that your father _wouldn't_ die. It worked and so no one had to die… and the need for her to go back in time and fix it… never had to happen again. Quite a paradox, huh? I still struggle to follow it all."

"And you know all of this…how?"

Karla groaned and lifted her paws in the air. "I can teleport. I was in many places at once. Your mother's doppelganger ripped me in half by surprise… and we… caught up. During that short time, I got to know your mother _really_ well… I even got inside her head so to speak. It's complicated – I really don't know how to explain soul transfusion and, trust me, you wouldn't want to know all the details."

"What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?" The look in his eyes became frightfully dark with the edge of his temper creeping up.

"The bottom line is, Carmelita – your mother as you know her to be – never had to experience what happened to her doppelganger. So, in her mind… nothing bad happened, she won and she went home to start a family." The only thing she'd learned to fear in the last month was Conner's temper. She lifted her paws defensively and said, "It was a figure of speech, sweetie. I'm just saying for a short time, I wore your mother's shoes and was given the opportunity to talk like her, act like her and in that short time… I learned about everything she'd gone through up to that point. It's complicated. Can we just… train now?"

"Fine. Let me _earn_ my wins, though. Don't go easy on me and, in return, I'll fight you like I mean it."

"It's about time," she murmured. "Fine, I won't go easy on you. It's time to humble you, young man. I'll have you unconscious before sunrise."

"Then you'd better hurry because you're running out of time." Conner motioned to the south window. To the far right, the sky was beginning to show signs of orange on the horizon.

"Well aren't _you_ in a mood today." She swatted her paw from left to right, knocking his cane from his grasp. "What has you so bent out of shape?"

Conner gritted his teeth and reached his paw outwards. The cane trembled then lurched through the air, magnetically attracted to his palm. "I lost my _family_, I lost friends, and I lost _time_. You're supposedly reincarnated. You claim you _lived_ your life already. I've not had that luxury. Another _month_ has gone by and I'm getting _frustrated_. So give me a goddamn break, Karla." He clinched his jaw tightly and approached her.

"Give it a rest – I'm going through a separation with my husband to help _you_. You're piss-poor at showing gratitude." She lifted both of her paws upwards. Around the edges of the room, a plethora of recently purchased tennis balls lifted from the ground. "Stop your bellyaching and have some testicular fortitude." She spread her fingers apart and a third of the small fuzzy objects approached at a high rate of speed.

Conner tightened his grip on the cane then pivoted on the toes of his left foot, swinging his cane outward at a forty-five degree angle. He struck the encroaching balls all at once, swatting them out of the air from multiple directions. He followed through with a spin then took a forward step, approaching her again. "Strange how my family's closest allies were once enemies. Panda, D'mitri, _you_. I'm not out to earn anyone's trust or placate anybody. I'm here to take down one of those fallen allies – Doctor M. Once that's done, I'm going home to live my life. So I could care less if my attitude pisses you off. We're here to do a _job_."

"Wow," she mused, slowly backing away. She placed a paw behind her back and waggled her fingers. A single tennis ball lurched across the room from behind Conner and struck him in the back of his head with such a high velocity that it knocked him flat on the ground.

The raccoon staggered in an attempt to get to one knee, dazed from the intensity of the strike. Woozy, he tried shaking his head but couldn't seem to shake off the dizziness. In a weak tone, he murmured, "Just… fazed – I'm not down."

She buffed her nails on the front of her leotard. "Let me ask you something, Conner? We're in America… why?" Her words faded in and out from the ringing in his ears but the question sounded oddly familiar.

He lifted a paw, finger extended and blinked as if trying to somehow buy himself time to recover. But her familiar question rang in his head, replaying over and over. Then it struck him. The voice of Boris filled his mind. For an instant, he could see himself hunched over in the back seat of a fancy European automobile with a gun in his paw. He pressed it against the head of the man whose face was blurred from a photograph released to the media depicting his mother.

The question sounded familiar because it was something Conner asked the man at the time. "_You said you sent them to America… Why?_" Despite being a flashback, Conner asked his question aloud, ignoring Karla for a moment while still attempting to shake off the dizziness of a blow to the head.

Karla shook her head and said, "I thought for sure you'd be unconscious after that first hit. You took a lot of force. We'd better make sure you don't have a concussion, Conner." Her words faded in and out, unheard over the ringing in his ears.

Cooper ignored her, listening to the reply of the man speaking in the flashback. "_I told that inspector the truth on how to find the submerged Atlantis Dome building. It's somewhat mobile so they can move its location but right now it's in the tropics and for some reason he has some sort of connection to the CIA. They help keep his operation a secret from everyone. The man who knows his location is an African hyena named Tyrell Antoine Jones. He's an ex-CIA agent living in Miami with a faux travel agency business located in Fort Lauderdale. HE is the direct contact for the man you and the inspector currently seek. Now, I've told you everything…_" the flashback began to fade as Conner regained his senses. He blinked again and sat up with clear vision and a clear head.

Karla, mimicking a line from a cult-classic comedy movie, announced, "And he's _okay_!" She waited until he was on his feet again before beaming him with another tennis ball with a ferocious rate of velocity. It struck him in his mid back, spinning him like a top. "I saw that look of confusion just now… don't tell me you haven't seen Wayne's World – I've only been awake for a total of _four years_ and even _I_ have seen that silly movie."

Cooper gritted his teeth, grinding them together. He stood up and clinched his paws around the cane. From the force of his grip, the cane began to glow, illuminating the floor space around him. The lighting in the ceiling began to waver, flickering above his body. The fixtures further away dimmed somewhat. The ballast from the affected lights began to hum loudly, struggling with the power demand now placed on them.

"Neat trick but it's not going to…" A fantastic arc of raw energy lanced from the lights above Karla's body. It struck her in the right paw and sent her body flying from the floor. She thrashed wildly in the air and, just before striking the ground, the half-breed disappeared. Every tennis ball in the room fell to the ground, bouncing about by the walls.

Fur singed, Karla reappeared behind Conner and gave him a physical shove against his shoulders in an attempt to topple him. He lost his balance and began to careen forward when suddenly she returned directly before him. Fist drawn back, she lunged forward, striking him with the brunt of her knuckles then disappeared once more.

Karla returned to the physical realm directly to his left and brought both of her paws forward, palms out. A telekinetic wave struck the raccoon, sending him through the air towards the south window.

She then teleported and appeared between him and the glass, lifting her right arm out, perpendicular to her upstanding stature. His neck caught against her arm in a clothesline maneuver. His feet came up and he dropped to the floor on his back. She then thrust her paws upwards. A barrage of tennis balls skittered across the floor, striking him repeatedly from almost every angle. Instinctively, the teenager brought his paws up to protect his face. He pulled the cane close and, once again, the lights directly above him began to dim and flicker wildly.

A soft bluish-white aura surrounded the raccoon, emanating from the cane. The weak energy field repelled the incoming objects. They struck the field and transferred their kinetic energy into the electrical current field, strengthening his protective barrier. He then threw his paws outwards, dispersing the field. It expanded rapidly, pushing away all the nearby tennis balls. It caught Karla, lifting her body and tossing it across the room like a limp rag doll. The tempered hurricane-resistant glass cracked down the center pane.

Karla blinked, finding herself on her tail, sitting up with her back flush against the far wall. A tennis ball sat between her knees with the fuzzy surface layer fluffed up and singed at the ends. "Did you just _shield_ yourself from me?" She rolled over then lifted to one knee. After a quick breather, she stood the rest of the way up with a grunt. "Impressive. But it won't take me down if I was your enemy. Surely you know that."

"I don't even understand what I'm going through," he muttered, coming to his feet as well. "I need to talk to Niall about this… Stephan, whatever you call him."

"I don't need a wildcard out in the field, kid. If you don't know how you'll react to certain situations then you've no chance against Moreau. So get it together or go the hell home."

"No!" He hurled his cane across the room. The blunt bottom end struck the drywall half a meter from her head. The hooked end wagged back and forth like a dog's tail for a moment. It hummed like a large, baritone tuning fork.

She grimaced then, in a chastising voice, said, "You missed, dear."

He rushed at her. A grin tugged at the corner of Karla's muzzle and she waved a paw. Conner disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared outside of the building, in the middle of Riviera Drive. With lightning reflexes, he continued his forward charge, hurdled over a parked car and ran up the lawn towards her. Karla's gaze narrowed, seeing him approach the glass wall at an accelerated rate of speed. "Don't be a _fool_," she snapped, waving her paw again. Conner teleported back inside the room, but facing the wrong direction, above a group of tennis balls on the ground.

His first step brought his feet out from beneath him but he remained graceful. The raccoon doubled over, thrust his paw out and performed a handspring maneuver that caused him to land on his feet in the middle of the room. He reached for his cane but from the angle where he stood in correlation to Karla, it lurched out of the wall, striking her from behind. She dropped to all fours with a grunt. The cane struck the floor then clumsily rolled across the ground until returning to Conner. It then lifted from the padded deck and returned to his outstretched palm.

Karla got back to her feet then waved her paw outwards. Again, the cane was ripped from Conner's grip. It skittered across the ground to the far end of the room. Before he could recover the object, she jerked her paws back, telekinetically capturing Conner and jerking his entire body towards the waiting felox. They collided with a powerful force and her back met the wall again. This time, she locked her arms around the back of his neck, keeping his face pressed against her torso in a telekinetically charged bear hug.

She locked her arms at the nape of his neck so that he couldn't pull free from her grip. He strained and thrashed, placing his palms against her stomach and pushing with all of his strength. He lifted his legs to either side of her hips and put his feet against the wall, trying to pry their bodies apart but he couldn't manage it. The force of her telekinetic will overpowered his physical body strength, keeping his face tucked into her over-sized breast. His nose was buried in her cleavage. With his flat little coal-button nose pressed against the fur and flesh of her sternum, he was unable to breathe. With the swell of her globes surrounding either side of his face, he was unable to draw a breath from the corners of his maw. His muzzle, practically encased in her grip, parted in an attempt to draw in air.

He was rewarded with the taste of her vanilla and carnation mixed fur. He continued to thrash for another moment then, quite suddenly, calmed himself so as not to burn what oxygen he had left in his lungs. Conner raised one of his paws, groping in the void in an attempt to reach for his cane across the room. The magnetic attraction caused the distant object to tremble on the floor but without knowing its exact location, he couldn't get a good magnetic fix on it.

"Shh," she whispered, "It'll all be over soon and you'll wake up in bed, relaxed and feeling much better." Her voice was calm and tender. "I'll have won this little bet and you'll be a humble, wiser man. It's okay, sweetie. You can't always win every fight and that's what this lesson is about."

He began struggling again, trying to put even the smallest gap between his face and her torso, so as to draw at least one single breath. His body began to ache, his muscles cramped up and his joints felt stiff. He attempted to turn his head to the left then the right but was unable to move at all. Her sensual tone was calming but he was beginning to suffocate.

"Don't worry, I won't asphyxiate you, dear. But I did promise I would render you unconscious, now didn't I?" She could feel that his pulse was beginning to slow and his body was becoming heavier as he turned into deadweight.

Quite suddenly, Karla cried out in agony. Conner dropped to the floor, gasping for air with a loud screeching sound. His heart began racing with renewed oxygen. The raccoon rolled onto his side, coughing and sputtering. He glanced over at Karla who lay face down on the ground. She murmured in pain. Cooper eased onto one elbow, looking up at Dawn who held his cane in her palms. The nineteen-year-old girl smirked. "I _said_ '_let him go_', ya bitch. Didn't you hear me the _first_ four freaking times?" She tossed the cane to the ground besides Conner. He reached for it and drew it close. She then knelt down besides him and said, "You okay? You don't need mouth-to-mouth do you?" A lame grin then she added, "Did you know your cane feels _hot_ to the touch? It's pretty uncomfortable to hold the thing…"

"She… she was suffocating me in there. Thanks for your help… I was about to black out."

Dawn chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, right. I'm sure you enjoyed it – I've _never_ heard of someone getting smothered in _tits_ before, Cooper. It looked more like a bear hug… that's supposed to squeeze your torso so you can't take a breath… But _smothering_? That's a new one."

"No, you don't understand," he wheezed. "I couldn't get away."

"Yeah, yeah." She stood up and turned to Karla then knelt over. "Get up, woman."

Karla groaned again then sat up slowly. "I didn't realize you would be so jealous about him," she murmured. "No, I didn't hear you… I was a little into the combat."

"Sure didn't look like combat," Dawn snorted in disdain. "Give it up, you've already got a man. Get a life."

The felox sniffed. Her nose twitched then she groaned again, reaching for the backside of her head. "I know, now, not to mess with you when you're on your period."

The corner of Dawn's muzzle tugged upwards, sneering at the other female. She snarled softly and tightened her paws into fists. "What, does little Mrs. Perfect not bleed, either?" Secretly, she was embarrassed that Karla called her out on that painful and emotional time of the month.

"One day a month," said Karla with a smirk. She slowly got to her feet but wavered slightly, rubbing at the lump on the backside of her head. "What can I say? I'm made to be the _perfect_ woman. Again, don't be jealous."

"Blow it out your tail-hole, Karla. I'm not jealous of you. And I _doubt_ you could smother someone into unconsciousness. Especially _me_ because I have a smaller facial structure. Are you too beat up to start on _my_ training now?"

Weasel lifted her right palm. "Give me a minute. I can't even hear myself think." She sat back down by the wall, still rubbing the knot on her head. She then directed her voice towards Conner. "That should count as a penalty for interference. There's no way to know if you could have escaped my grip – I use telekinesis to multiply the force of my grip by a great deal." She then brought a paw to her chest, rubbing tenderly against her solar plexus, between her lush, full globes of fur and flesh. "I've got one hell of a bruise, from your snout, though."

Conner closed his right paw around his cane and placed his left palm against Karla's forearm. He tightened his grip on the cane and it began to glow. Quite suddenly, Conner and Karla's bodies flew apart, throwing each of them several feet away. Dawn stood over by the wall, her jaw slack from surprise. The raccoon groaned, finding himself on the floor again. "If that was a real fight-to-the-death combat session, you seriously miscalculated the fact that I have friends and you would have lost."

Slowly, Cooper sat up with a grunt and shook his head to clear away the sensation of lightheadedness. The dazed raccoon put the base of the cane on the floor and leaned on it like a walking stick. "All I had to do is reach out until the cane came back to my hand. Had I gotten hold of it, I would have shocked the living crap out of you and it would have thrown us apart – thus my demonstration." He hobbled towards her and hooked the cane beneath her arm and lifted her to her feet.

"I have no idea how close I was to finding it… but…" His words were cut off by Dawn.

"You were pretty damn close," she said. "It was rolling across the ground. I saw it, I picked it up and I swung it like Casey Jones." She offered a wry smile then approached Karla, placing a paw on Conner's chest. She pushed the other raccoon away then leaned in close and whispered into Karla's ear so that Cooper wouldn't hear her. "_If you ever rub up on him again like that… I'll knock yer block off, bitch. He's mine and you know it. So you'd better step down REAL quick_." She patted the side of Karla's face tenderly, smiled then announced, "Conner, it's time for you to get some rest. It's my turn to train – so beat it."

Cooper eyed the two women for a moment then shook his head. "When I get up in a few hours, I want you to look up a man named 'Tyrell Antoine Jones' because I just remembered something from the past… it's a long shot but he's supposed to know exactly where this dome is located at all times."

Dawn quirked a brow at him then said, "That name sounds familiar."

"That's because you were on the phone with me when the owner of the Casino spilled his guts at gunpoint."

"All right. When you wake up we'll search for that guy on the net. Now go get some sleep." She put her paws on her hips and waited until he left the room then turned back to Karla and smirked. "Don't… touch… my man. Are we clear?"

"You're not even showing him any interest," said Karla with a smirk. "You guys aren't together and you've not kissed him in _three years_. In fact, I do believe that _you_ are the one who told him to back off so you guys can't take things slow… you said something about coming out of a bad relationship."

"You're a woman," said Dawn. "You know how complicated we are, Karla. He's mine and I want you to keep your paws off. You flirt with him again like that and I'll be sending cell phone pictures to Winthrop."

Karla gasped. "You wouldn't _dare_."

Dawn lifted her left paw, palm facing up. She brought her right paw to the side of her neck, pressing inwards, beneath her jaw line. The cellular chip installed in the base of her jaw activated. A holo-emitter clipped in her fur displayed a virtual keypad on her palm. She used her right finger to flick through the menu displayed on her left paw until a number listed as, "Weasel family home" was displayed. She turned her back to Karla and lifted her paw a bit, showing the other woman over her shoulder what was displayed upon her palm. "I got this one from Conner. Should I go ahead and call it right now?"

Karla glowered in anger. "Enough. Put your fancy little virtual cell phone away before I _wring your neck_ and accidentally call _everyone_ at once."

"Fancy phone, huh? The virtual phone interface has been around for over a decade. It just wasn't popular until recently." She used her right index, touching a projected display on her left paw. To anyone else, it looked like the young raccoon was poking herself in the palm. "The body is the best antenna ever. I have better reception than with any previous handheld unit. I don't know why I didn't switch over sooner in life."

Karla folded her arms across her chest. "Cellular signals can be traced. Your carrier knows exactly where you are at any given time. It's a stupid concept if you want your privacy."

"Don't argue technology with _me_, Karla. This is a proven piece of equipment. I've been using it for a little over a year now and it's _never_ failed or screwed up. Besides, I didn't get a model with a global satellite link because I don't use my phone for directions. And I can always use Bluetooth to route my calls to a different line so that a direct fix can't be triangulated. Get your facts straight before you go and shoot your mouth off."

The felox rubbed the bump at the back of her head again then sighed. "Just… go start doing your stretches. I need to cool down while you warm up, kiddo." Again, Karla sighed and walked away, still rubbing the backside of her head. "And believe me, you're going to pay for hitting me with his cane. I promise you… you're going to be tired after today's sparring session."

* * *

**A/N**: _Okay, so Karla is training Keri, Dawn and Conner in combat tactics, using her telekinesis. This was a long chapter, but I had a lot of dialogue this time. Again, we see Karla using her busty figure to her advantage. Why? Well, she did it in Lament. She did it earlier in this story to the Guru. The real reason is… I was requested to write it that way. Anyhow, 'auto-erotic asphyxiation' is very, very dangerous. So if you're into that sort of thing, please be careful. _

_Okay, lots going on in this chapter. I'm trying to get through everything so that I can bring this story towards its eventual close. I mean, c'mon… it's obvious I'm getting close to the end, here. I'm pulling something out of Chapter 10 with this guy in Miami, Tyrell Antoine Jones. He's the tie-in to Spy Cooper, although I'd not gotten the chance to introduce him in that story just yet. He knows Jacob White, the terminal vulpine agent who helped Carmelita in Spy Cooper. _

_Okay, now that we've got the team fully assembled, and we see that our characters have spent the last three weeks training their tails off to increase their strength, endurance and combat focus… and now that we've learned about Karla's relationship status and now that we've put in an incident that will help bring Dawn and Conner back together finally… we can NOW move onto chapter 23! YAY _

_I figured you guys didn't really care for the last chapter because I only received one review, lol. Hopefully the fighting of this chapter helps grab your attention again!_

_-kit _


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter -23-

_Shortly after noon, Friday June 1__st__, 2029  
Miami, Florida_

**Tyrell Jones folded his paws**, looking up at Conner Cooper in silence. His yellow fur and black spots were beginning to gray from age. He inhaled slowly then exhaled the same way. His chest rose and fell with each breath, watching the youth for a moment before shaking his head. "This 'mess' got my friend killed, young man." His thick African accent was calm yet booming. "He thought he was doing the right thing by giving his life to save some unimportant people. But in the end, it wasn't their fault that he died. It was the fault of that fool out in the ocean. The problem is, they pay well. We are at an impasse. Surely you cannot offer me nearly enough money to betray this employer. Therefore, whatever it is you think I may know, you're wasting your breath trying to find out."

Conner balked. "That's _it_? That's all you want is _money_? And here I thought it would be difficult to find out what you know." He half laughed, shaking his head with a paw over his face. "Good grief, seriously… name a price, pal. I'll get you what you want then we can talk. Money is a _joke_. It's hardly an issue, seriously."

"I doubt you'll pay better than my contact." He toyed with a paperweight on his desk – a small sculpture of an obelisk. After a moment, he put it back down and pushed it to the edge of his desk.

"I doubt you know me well enough to make that sort of decision." Conner pulled a chair from his desk and settled down face to face with the man. "Name your price, be as off-the-cuff as you wish. Depending on how many digits are involved is how much more work I'll make you do to earn it, though. If you get greedy and ask for money in the billions, you'll be dodging bullets along with me to earn it. But I'm willing to pay good money for good information. It's of value to me. So think before you open your muzzle."

"You talk a good game," said the fifty-something gentleman. "But no child has access to what I'm asking. Why work for your money when I can simply put my feet up and hold a secret for what I'm making."

"But this man will eventually cut you out of the equation," said Conner. "When he's tired of paying you, he'll simply kill you."

"My death will be investigated," said Jones. He smiled. "He's not paying me for my silence so much as for my help. The CIA pays me to misinform other agencies to keep our client well hidden. I have use… or as you worded it… '_value_' and you would do well to learn how to make things work for you in life."

"Do you know who I am?" Conner smiled back.

"Yes." Jones unfolded his paws and crossed his arms. "You're the latest male Cooper to carry the family heirloom. It does not impress me. Your family steals from other thieves – I can't be bothered with a petty crook who simply wishes to outsmart other petty crooks."

"My family lineage can be traced back to shortly before the birth of Christ. We've been stealing that long. Every family member has put that money into the same piggy bank. So, again, I'll ask you – how much do you cost?"

Silence. Tyrell pondered the offer for a moment then stood up and walked away from his desk. He turned to the window and folded his hands behind his back. "Breaking my silence makes me a target."

"No one has to know. One day soon, out of the blue, there will be an underwater explosion. The public won't even hear about it. You retire off the my bribe offer and the CIA shifts its focus to the next shiny task."

"…Indeed." He lifted a cellphone to his ear and said, "Dag?" In a defeatist tone he said, "Geld. Ek wil vyftig miljoen binne United States currency?" A pause then in a surprised tone of voice, he asked, "Meer? Erg? _Belangrik_? Ernstig…?" A sigh then, "Tot siens." He closed the phone and tossed it over his shoulder onto his desk, placing his paws against the glass window and leaning against it. He peered down at people in the street then cursed softly under his breath. "If you can provide me with an amount greater than fifty million dollars in US currency, we might have something to work with. I'm an expensive man and I have expensive friends who wish to benefit, as I am their benefactor."

"How much more than fifty are we talking? A hundred? Two? Just name a price so we can move on and be done."

Tyrell smiled again. "Right to business… very good." He turned back to Conner and reached into his blazer. His forearm tightened up and he began to withdraw his paw. His eyes narrowed.

Conner reached back to the bottom of his cane and pulled it down from the holster then swung it upwards in one graceful motion. It nicked the paperweight on his desk, knocking the small statue over. The hooked tip came up against the man's throat. "Don't even try it. I didn't come here to play, I came here to do business and leave town."

"Calm yourself," said Jones without so much as flinching. However, when the cane tip brushed against his neckline, it caused his fur to stand on end, fluffing up around his neck. "Your staff is cold to the touch," he said, shuddering from the goosebumps. "I'm not a fan of cold things." He pulled his paw from his blazer, holding a PDA. "I want you to make a deposit into this account. I'm not going to be stingy – seventy-five million. Fifty-five for my ward and twenty even for me." He passed the PDA to Conner then casually brought his paw up and outward, brushing the cane away from his neck. "You look remarkably similar to your father, boy. Thankfully, you seem less naïve than your old man. It's no matter, though… you'll unfortunately die like him, too. Not by my hand, I assure you… but anyone who heads to that dome is heading for their grave."

"So you used to work Intelligence," Conner mused, taking the PDA. "So tell me… do you know what Doctor Moreau is doing down there?"

"Hording trinkets. He believes they're capable of bringing him power. If that were true, it would have happened in the past and that person would have been a godlike being. Who knows, though… perhaps Genghis Kahn managed to do it? Maybe Jesus Christ managed to do it? Maybe Moses managed to do it. Or maybe it's all just a hoax created by power hungry faith-tarnished men who wish to be more than just powerless fools. Everyone knows that the masses create their own power and revolution is the platform in which that power is exchanged from the government to the people. It will always be that way. People, even in Africa, wear a New York Yankees hat or a Boston Red Socks jersey, because they like winners and a winner has power. Do you ever see anyone wear a Montréal Expos shirt? Seriously. Perhaps if you are from Canada, and even then it's few and far between. It's been that way for over fifty years."

"I'm not a sports fan," said Conner.

"You don't like baseball? It's the all-American sport."

He began tapping his finger on the touch screen of the PDA. "I'm French, dude. Seriously, Africans should know a French dialect when they hear one. German and English, too. I hear it was a pretty popular place thanks to the Second World War."

"Indeed, it was." He offered a shrug. "Unfortunately I am unable to lead you directly to that dome anymore. It's still in the Atlantic, not far from the equator… but it's moved from time to time. I've not had the exact coordinates in about three years. There was a woman who came through here and we didn't see eye to eye… when she was done with me, she took the sheet and disappeared. I never heard from her again. But that doesn't mean I can't help you _find_ it."

Conner folded his arms, keeping the PDA in his left paw. "Before I play this game with you, I want to make sure you're legit. What's going on – how can you get me into that dome?"

"From what I understand, there are two missing artifacts. If you retrieve them both, you'll get his attention. He gets sloppy once you have his attention… and you can trace him back to his little hide out."

"Two?" The raccoon narrowed his gaze. "I heard there was only one he was missing."

"You heard wrong. He's technically missing three but one of them was destroyed in Australia about two decades ago." The hyena sat down at his desk and began rummaging through paper. "I cannot help you with both artifacts… whether or not you wish to find them both is not my concern. However, I know of one in India. It has been in a vault for a _very_ long time. Rumor has it that the object was once stolen but the thief returned it to the police for no reason and no ransom. Whether or not it's true is of no concern… the piece will be put back on public display this week. You can rest assured that Moreau will send someone to 'retrieve' it. Simply dispatch his team, take the artifact and let one person escape so that you can follow them. Perhaps a tracking beacon of some sort would do nicely. I know exactly what this object is and the exact time that it will be put on display, as well as its exact location."

"Dispatching the bad guys is one way," Conner mused. "But I can always steal this object before it goes on display. And when the thugs come around, waiting for it… and when they find out that it's not around… I can just follow the lot of'em back."

"Do things the way in which you know best, boy."

Cooper gritted his teeth then lifted the PDA and read the contents on the screen. "Give me a minute." He fished out his wallet and began to rummage through it for a scrap of paper. After a moment to locate it, he looked over a collection of numbers on the small parchment corner then typed in those numbers on the PDA screen. He closed out the transfer of funds and said, "Start talking." He then tossed the small object back at the hyena. "If you don't lie to me… and if I manage to retrieve this object, I'll tip you. If it's not there and I find out you lied to me, I'll put a 'stop payment' order on it. So don't screw with me."

"New Dahli, India. The display goes public on Monday. That gives you the weekend to get ready. However, if you're feeling bold, it's currently in Bombay in a storage facility. It's called, 'The Fire Stone of India." You may have heard of this piece, but it's surprisingly nothing special. It's just a large ruby, not even the world's largest. It's not pure or polished, so it looks like a very plain dark red rock. This is a crucial piece and, for the first time in ages, it's coming out of the vault to go on a historical display. Most who search for these silly artifacts have no clue that this is one of them. Keep it safe if you get it into your possession again. I mean it"

"I see." Conner snorted. "I know a little about that piece. Like why it disappeared, how it was returned… and that it better be what you say it is… or I'll be back." He picked the cane up, which was leaning up against the front of the desk. He twirled it gracefully then returned the lengthy pole to his holster, between his shoulder blades. A grin formed on his muzzle, knowing the man had no idea how ironic this entire situation was becoming. "It will be an absolute pleasure to steal it. Maybe I'll give it to my future girlfriend… and if she doesn't want it… I'll give it to my mother," he lowered his tone so that the man wouldn't hear him and added, "_Again_."

* * *

**"We're going **_**where?**_**" **Keri blinked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Dawn, Karla and Conner.

Stephan, in the passenger seat, said, "Bombay. Cooper, what's so amusing about going to India?"

Conner, trying not to laugh, leaned back between the two females and said, "My father stole that piece once. There was only _one_ reason he took it. It's the only thing he stole that wasn't from another crook. He did it to get my mother's attention because he was attracted to her. Years later, he gave it back to her as a gesture of good faith and in an attempt to placate her. I guess he should have held onto it… but it doesn't matter. Dad was my age when he took it. It won't be hard for me to follow in his footprints. Literally."

"So we're doing a heist," Karla mused. "How quaint. And what of the flat we have in the Keys?"

"It's rented up to the end of the year," said Conner. "Let's just hold onto that for now. It's a close base of operations to wherever this dome is located. We'll make it our headquarters before launching the final assault when we have a location on this place. Also, he said that Moreau is sending people to fetch it and whether or not they get it, they'll be heading back to the dome when they're done."

Stephan nodded. "Perhaps we should leave two people here in Florida to monitor the area in case we can catch them moving through the local region. I could stay here and monitor the waters."

Conner brought a fingertip to his lower lip in thought, tapping it pensively. "Actually, that might be a good idea. But I'll need everyone else. Keri will study the area so that she can drive us out of there. Karla is a good defense and a backup offense. Dawn will be planning out the heist based on the layout and provide logistical support. I'm doing the stealing, obviously."

Karla smirked. "I can always go alone, teleport in, teleport the jewel from the display case and into my paw, then teleport out and come back."

"That won't work," said the teen. "I understand you can teleport things if you have a good idea of where they are located or are able to see the objects… but this is inside of a vault in Bombay. If we wait until Monday when it's on display, it will be too late for two reasons. One, the bank won't try to clear my father's check until Monday. It's the next business day, after all. Dad doesn't keep that much money in savings or checking. He keeps that kind of money in the vault but… that's different. So the check will bounce when the bank attempts to clear it. We need to have the rock and disappear before the weekend is out. Two, Moreau's men have a better chance of getting it if we wait. So… we're going to steal it from the vault. The walls are very thick in a vault like that, not to mention it's probably in a thick metal box, on a shelf inside this vault. If anyone teleports into the vault, they're liable to wind up getting killed by appearing half mixed into an object."

Karla face-faulted. "Fair enough."

Keri glanced over her shoulder then turned back to the road. "So… this whole… teleportation thing…" She put a blinker on and turned then asked, "Can you, like, teleport someone's heart out of their chest then throw it at them or something? I mean, that would be pretty epic."

"It's connected to the rest of their body," said the felox. "Taking a magazine out of a gun or a battery out of a car or even a detonator from a small rocket is possible, provided I've seen the interior of one – provided I know what side of the car the battery is on or provided I can figure out where the magazine is loaded into the weapon. Some guns have them in the butt, some have them mounted on top of the weapon. Whichever. The point is, the heart is attached to the rest of the body by valves that a surgeon would typically cut. The brain is connected to a stem that goes down to the spine. The lungs connect to the bronchial tubes… it's not as easy. It would make more sense to ask for a Lego to be teleported out of a child's stomach after they foolishly swallowed it. That's far more feasible. _Why_ would I want to teleport someone's heart out of their chest anyhow?"

Keri grinned, dodging Karla's question. "What about teleporting someone's entire skeleton, like body snatchers or something?"

The half-breed groaned. "Jesus Christ. I'm not even going to address such absurdity." She shook her head slowly and folded her arms across the seat belt that half-disappeared into her cleavage. After a moment of complete silence, Karla murmured, "Why not just take all the organs or all twelve pints of blood or all their muscles and tendons… the whole skeleton thing has _been_ done." She rolled her eyes, scoffed and looked out the window. "Seriously."

Conner cleared his throat and, in a soft voice, said, "You could teleport all the food out of their stomach and intestines so that they're starving, become weak and continue to do it to them until they starve to death."

She lifted a left paw outwards as if punctuating her next statement. "Exactly my point… even _that_ is more original than teleporting skeletons. Why don't I just teleport the electrical impulses on the cellular level to _stop_ their heart. I mean, gee."

Stephan glanced over at her and grinned. "Amusing. …At any rate, the reason Keri asked is because doing such things would cause a serious attack on the morale of every soldier in the area, thus causing them to break off their attack. It's psychological warfare. Handing a man his own pacemaker right before punching him in his chest would send a potent message to his teammates. Understand?"

"This conversation is growing silly," she groused. "When do we go to Bombay?"

"Keri," Conner called up to the front of the van. "Take us to the airport. We'll buy tickets on the spot. But first, drop Stephan off at the rental place."

Stephan shook his head in disagreement. "I may be out of tune with this modern world but that doesn't mean I do not have a license. We'll go to the airport and I'll drive the van back to the house – no need to pay for airport parking fees. It's merely across the street, anyhow."

Keri shrugged. "He's right, Conner. He'll need wheels to get around town if he needs supplies or to get away for any reason."

"Whichever – let's just get it in gear. Okay," he shrugged in return and said, "Take us to the Miami airport. It's not right across the street from our place in the Keys but Miami will have a larger selection to get us to India sooner than that little place they have down in the keys." He directed his attention to Stephan and asked, "You know how to get there from here, right? Just take I-95 south until…"

The skunk narrowed his gaze as if insulted. "Conner… we have a dash-mounted Navi. I build machines capable of creating life; power supplies that last for generations with no carbon footprint… I think I'm capable of following southbound US Route One or Interstate Ninety-five." He cut his gaze to the left, nodding to Keri. "To the Miami Airport, then."

"Just be glad my sister isn't here. She'd have put all of you in your place for your inability to get along."

"I don't doubt that," said Dawn, her first words since they left Tyrell Jones' mock office. She folded her paws, gazing out the rear passenger-side window. A soft yawn then she closed her eyes, trying to relax. "I think I'll sleep on the flight. I've been up since early… six a.m.; I'm kind of a night person."

"Wait until you have kids," remarked the woman on the other side of Conner. "The first two years are hell on your sleep-wake pattern. Trust me."

Stephan rubbed his chin. "I designed your metabolism so that you could operate on five hours a night every night."

"While that did help me get through the first year of Donovan's life, I'm sure my metabolism changes based on my diet and everything else, old man. I'll be sleeping on the plane ride, too."

Keri snorted. "It's a long damn trip to the other side of the world. I'm sure we'll _all_ be sleeping on the plane. Seriously."

Karla snorted in reply. "Seriously."

Conner buried his face into his palms. "My team gets along _so_ well."

Stephan reached back and patted the teenager's knee. "That's what you get for working with all females." He offers a smile then said, "Make sure you get some sleep on the plane."

The raccoon glanced from Dawn to Karla then up at Keri. "I don't think I have a choice in the matter anyhow."

Up ahead, the airport stretched out before the front of the van. They could see the control tower looming in the distance and planes taking off to the left. Everyone grew quiet while Keri drove them towards the terminal drop off point.

* * *

**"You remember the plan, right?"** A dapple gray wolf turned to his accomplice, a partially black-furred lupine of similar build. "This plane is a media distraction. We hijack the airliner and land it in Bombay. Everyone aboard is a hostage."

The dark-hued man turned to the timberwolf and nodded. "Right, terrorist simulation. They'll call for all units in the area to aid in securing the airport, leaving the rest of the team breathing space so they can hit the vault and take that thing the Boss wants."

"You've got it. Good, I'm proud of you – you actually paid attention at the briefing." He patted his cousin on the shoulder. "From here on out, your stage name is Pepper."

"Yeah, I heard it in the briefing. You're salt. These names make no sense," said the black-furred wolf. "We should have used Middle Eastern names. People would overhear us say, "Muhammad and text for help from their cell phones. It would create a bigger stir if…"

Salt shook his head and rolled his eyes. "See, there you go over-analyzing things again. Get it together, Marty. Hostage situation on a plane with obvious fake names… think about it. It doesn't matter if we wear a turban and a fake beard. Hindu, Muslim, who gives a rat's ass? The police radio is going to report a plane hijacking and they're going to call for all units. Just because we use any certain name, don't think it's going to make any difference. That's a media lever, not a police lever. They're not going to announce, "Some guys named Mohammed have hijacked a plane, send in double the reinforcements."

Pepper smirked. "I converted to Islam at the airport in Europe. Dirka, dirka, dirka. I'm ready to put a jihad on these people for…"

"Shut the hell up," Salt snapped. "Seriously. You're an idiot. I can't believe my uncle married your mother. For as smart as you can sometimes be, you're a real idiot."

"We both are for doing this. We're both going to jail and will be forgotten by the Doctor and his friends. We're both fodder – expendable people who are being used. We won't be able to collect our compensation because we'll be in a dirty, high security underground prison. This is practically a suicide mission."

Again Salt groaned. "Don't be so dramatic, man. He'll spring us because he doesn't want us breaking under pressure and talking to anyone about our connections. He doesn't want us leading the cops to his front door."

Pepper reached for the bathroom door. "No, the Doctor will send someone in to assassinate us. That's a far better and cheaper way of keeping us both quiet. Why pay two wolves to do a job when you can pay one monkey boy to come in and kill us for half the price." Pepper then offered a snarky smirk and said, "But I'm the dumb one of the operation, here… so I'm following _your_ lead…_ cousin_." He stepped out of the airplane bathroom and began walking down the aisle. Salt followed.

As the two wolves continued down the business-class aisle, Salt stumbled on something. The gray-furred wolf turned towards a young looking raccoon on the end seat and glared. "Is that stupid thing _yours_ kid?" He reached down and pulled the canvas guitar case from the floor, under the row of seats. "If you can't fit your carry on up in the overhead compartment, you need to put it in the hold so people don't _trip_ on your goddamn _crap_, kid."

An incredibly attractive half-breed vixen in the next seat sat up and opened her eyes with an alluring smile. "Hey, relax… it belongs to _me_. It's my longneck bass guitar. I thought it was under my feet… it must have slid over a little bit… If there is _anything_ I can do to make up for the inconvenience… just _name_ it, handsome." Conner started to say something but she nudged him in the ribs and said, "Quiet, you…" She lifted her gaze back to Salt and smiled. "Guitarists always feel the need to add their two cents to everything. Don't mind him." She batted her lashes.

Pepper turned back to his cousin and nudged him. "C'mon, _Salt_. We don't have time for this."

The lighter furred lupine shrugged. "It's fine, lady. Just don't let it happen again. And, no, there's _nothing_ you can do for me." He smirked at her then lifted his chin upwards in an almost snotty way. "Just because you're a woman doesn't mean you're not in the wrong. Your little eyelash spasms don't do crap for me, lady." He pivoted on his heel and flicked his tail upwards then stalked down the aisle, towards his seat several rows up.

Karla leaned in close to Conner and whispered, "It's quite obvious that he's gay and the dark-furred one in his boyfriend. My charms don't work? _Indeed_."

Conner whispered back, "How do you know for sure?"

She smirked and brushed her lips against the raccoon's ear. "They came out of the bathroom together. That's not something men do."

He snickered to himself. "You're very perceptive. I'd not noticed." The raccoon snuggled back down into the semi-comfortable chair and closed his eyes again. "How much longer before we land?"

"About thirty minutes or less," she replied. The half-breed scrunched up her nose, a moue of disgust forming like an adorable pout upon her face. "I'm going to keep my eye on those two… they seem like trouble… call it a woman's intuition."

Keri leaned away from her window seat, peered over at the two wolves. She watched them for a moment then whispered, "Don't go hating on the gay community, Karla. Don't get upset just because some men don't want you in their bed." She then cut her eyes back towards the two males.

The felox chuckled inwardly. "Honey, I don't hate on The Team – I like women just as much as I like men." She reached over and placed her paw upon Keri's cheek in a flirtatious manner. "Especially those naturally muscular women. I have special little place in my heart for tigers…"

Keri quickly swatted the paw away and hunched up against the window, leaning away from Karla. "I might like seeing two cute boys snuggled up on a park bench, but I'm not really a fan of other females. Women are too caddy for my taste, and you take the caddy _cake_, Karla."

"Aww, sweetie, I'm sorry." She playfully batted her lashes at Keri to make the twenty-five year old feel even less comfortable. After a moment, Karla turned back to Conner and cleared her throat, growing serious again. "Okay, I have a bad gut feeling about those two. Want me to teleport them out onto the wing?"

Conner chuckled and shook his head slowly. He buried his face down into his arm, trying to fall back asleep for a little while longer. The raccoon murmured a reply to her. "Don't you supernatural types have some sort of _code_ about flaunting that stuff in public?"

She face-faulted. "How did you know about that?"

He rolled away from her and mumbled, "Stephan told me not to flaunt my cane glowing trick in public. He said it starts inquisitions with people who don't understand scientific anomalies like… you." He drifted off again, breathing deeply through his nose. Silence resumed and time passed leisurely. Twenty minutes later, the plane broke cloud cover and early morning sunlight filtered in on one side of the plane through some of the windows that didn't have the plastic blinds drawn.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "This is your Captain, Russell Wallace speaking. We'll be landing in Bombay shortly, with the current time standing at six thirty-five in the morning. It's currently seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit," he continued to speak, first rattling off the same temperature in the Celsius conversion then going on to mention the name of the airport. He repeated the entire message in one other language but it went on deaf ears for most passengers. People began scuffling around, buckling their belts and putting their seat trays up against the back of the chair in front of them.

The two wolves further up in the cabin stood up. The black-furred one walked forward up the aisle, approaching the stewardesses and rallying them. The gray furred one placed his paws to his muzzle and, in a clear voice, addressed the cabin in English. "I want everyone's attention! This plane is no longer under the control of its operators. I want everyone to stay calm and do exactly as I say because you're all worth more to us alive than dead. There is no need to panic; so long as everyone does what I tell them, we'll be landing on time with no problems. There will be a delay, however. We'll be sitting on the tarmac while my accomplice and I negotiate terms with the local law enforcement. I WILL REQUIRE your cooperation. Now, we're not in grade school anymore, but poor behavior will _not_ be tolerated. I have a detonator in my left hand and explosives packed into the mock batteries of three laptops, located in key points of the overhead storage. If they explode, they _will_ detonate what fuel is left in this plane. It may not be much, but it will certainly be enough to kill everyone here. Anyone who attempts to start trouble will die. If the behavioral problems persist, we'll cut our losses and two more people will hijack another plane tomorrow and start all of this over. This isn't about money or anything you people can offer to us. So, for everyone here to walk away from this… I require you all to be on your best behavior. At the end of the day, the two of us go to prison, happy that our demands were met. The alternative, as I've said before, requires all of us to die together. So… Just sit back, relax, put on your iPod or get out a good book… because we're all going to be friends for a little while. I'll instruct the stewardesses to begin serving coffee and refreshments. Bathroom trips will be one at a time on an as-needed basis. I'm going to offer a three-strike rule. If we have three strikes, the plane goes with everyone aboard. No one do anything stupid, understand?"

No one spoke after his long, calmly recited monologue.

Conner sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced over at Karla and Keri then cut his gaze over at Dawn, across the aisle. His head swiveled back towards Karla and he frowned.

Keri rubbed her chin. "I know those two from somewhere. God, his voice is so familiar."

She leaned towards Cooper and whispered, "_Now_ can I teleport him out onto the wing?"

"Code," reminded Conner with a sigh. "Last resort. If his detonator goes out of range, it might cause these battery-sized explosives to go off."

"…If they even exist," she interjected.

He continued his statement, unfazed by her interruption. "Our best bet is to get a hold of the remote control. Can you teleport the trigger to one of us then we can hide it from them? From here it looks like he's holding a cell phone."

"Let's save that as a last resort," she murmured. "If this guy loses his cellular phone – his 'make believe' detonation trigger – he'll get upset. Think about it; you know how people like this freaking _lose it_ if they think the tide has changed against them… they get excited and start attacking helpless people, like the elderly and such. We either take them down in one smooth action, like tossing him out the window… or we lay low and wait until we've landed."

"Maybe we can get it from him the old fashion way," the raccoon mused. "I could use a cup of hot coffee, since they're going to start doing refreshments again… I have an idea."

"Make sure the situation seems kosher before you try and run into things," Karla reminded him. "Don't rush into something you're not ready for." She glanced over her shoulder at the timber wolf then up the aisle at his black-furred partner. "This could get interesting, regardless."

"I'll need a cup of scalding hot coffee to implement my idea," he mused.

"This could get tricky," murmured Keri. "Conner, you may be the best armed person here, with your cane… but you can't use it without possibly hitting a passenger. You need something surefire. I remember these guys – they pissed me off in the past; I'm trying to remember the details. I've seen their faces before – it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Cat got your tongue, Keri?" Karla smirked at the feline. "All of you are getting excited."

Keri ignored Karla's blathering, leaned forward and told him, "Conner, you should be able to take these guys if you're careful."

"Just relax," he whispered.

"HEY!" The gray wolf approached Conner. The two locked gaze for a moment then, without a word, Salt reached into the overhead compartment, above Dawn's head. He withdrew a laptop case, causing everyone on the plane to tense up. He opened it and withdrew a widescreen seventeen-inch laptop from the case. The dummy computer was shifted beneath his left arm. With his right paw, he pulled a component from the side of the computer. He then turned back to Conner, brandishing a crudely designed knife with a ten-inch blade and a four-inch handle. He placed the tip of the knife beneath Conner's jaw. "Seriously, shut up, kid. This thing will go all the way through you and out the other side. You ever had a piece of metal straight through you and out your back, kid?"

Cooper narrowed his gaze. In a chillingly callous voice, he said, "Yes. It was cold at first but it didn't hurt as much as you'd think. You're too shocked to realize the gravity of it at first." He leaned his head forward as if challenging the man.

A pause then Salt snorted. "You've got an active imagination, kid." He brought his free paw to the raccoon's head, gripped him by the hair then shoved the teenager's head back against the headrest of the tall seat. "Now shut the hell up before we really find out if this hurts or not."

Pepper cleared his throat, further down the aisle. "Just make an example out of him so everyone else knows we mean business, Salt."

"No!" Everyone turned to face Dawn whose wide eyes and frustrated demeanor made it easy to perceive her deep concern. "He wasn't lying, it happened to him before. There's no need to do it again."

Salt smirked. "Looks like someone didn't do it right the first time." He drew his paw back, holding the knife up.

"Wait!" Dawn was shaking with nervous energy. "Just… let's resolve this without violence. There's no need to make any examples today. Everyone here knows you're serious." Salt glanced over his shoulder at Dawn but kept the knife above Conner's head in a ready position. Having his attention, the female teenager continued her soft pleading in an attempt to calm the armed lupine.

Conner glanced around at the distracted group of people. He snuck a paw down and pulled up on a handle between his and Karla's seat cushion. Flipping it up into the unlocked position, he began to wiggle his rump to loosen the clamps on the side of the seat.

Karla nudged him, glared then narrowed her gaze as if demanding to know what he was doing. He nodded down as if to draw her attention to the floatation device sticker beneath the tray on the backside of the seat in front of him. He then canted his head, nodding towards the blade not far from his face. He then mouthed the word, "shield" to her and cleared his throat loudly. "I'll be cool, man. Did you need any help with the drink cart? You don't want the stewardesses pushing it around back there, right? They could wait until you're not paying attention and call for help from the galley, right? You want me to push the drink cart for ya'?"

Salt returned his gaze forward and quickly backhanded Conner across the side of his face. "Shut up, kid. You annoy me." He turned away but not before turning back to Dawn and suddenly barking in her face to startle her. He smiled in reply to her flinch and said, "It's a shame there are so many good looking bitches on this plane. I hope you bimbos are smart enough to keep your mouths shut. I'd hate to have to shank a pretty face, but don't think I won't."

A vibration in Conner's pocket caught his attention. He remained silent for now and watched as both wolves headed up the aisle. Pepper stood outside of the cockpit, arms folded. Salt stepped into the cockpit and the door shut. No one spoke. Conner glanced around furtively then took out his phone, glancing at the screen.

"Y'know you're supposed to turn that off," said someone in the next row back.

Conner ignored them and began reading a text message from Stephan. He blinked then thumbed the directional pad key at the center of the phone. He blinked again then tossed it across the aisle to Dawn. He whispered, "Read that."

She did. Like Conner, she balked and re-read it then tossed it back. "If that's true… this is… wow."

"Deep huh?" Conner passed the phone to Karla who read it with a look of surprise then passed it to Keri. After a few moments the phone made its way back to Conner, quick to stow it. "Heavy stuff we're dealing with here. I never saw that one coming."

Dawn whispered, "Do we still have to get this ruby?"

"Yeah." Conner sighed. "I thought the last piece was going to be some sort of Mayan thing."

"It looks like we were _way_ off the mark," murmured Dawn. "What's the plan?"

"They have one knife," said Conner. "I take it from them then we overpower them. Can you look at that laptop and see if the battery is really some sort of explosive? How could they turn a battery into a bomb, anyhow?"

"Chemical, electrical… it's probably not even a real battery. You saw that thing – it wasn't a real laptop. So this last artifact is a _walking stick_, more or less?"

He offered her a nod. "Made out of sapphire and bronze. Supposedly the rod of Moses was _destroyed_ but if Stephan thinks that it was mistakenly swapped for the rod of Aaron, that means it still exists. Whether or not it's in the freakin' Ark of the Covenant remains to be seen. He claims it's not hidden in a tabernacle, though. He says it's hidden in plain view and it's feasible to find it so… the guy is pretty smart, I think we should go for it."

Keri leaned forward and in a hushed voice, asked, "Isn't this the staff that parted the Red Sea? That's an epic piece of hardware to put into the hands of mortals, if it's even anything more than a story."

A nod of agreement from Karla; she said, "Whether or not it was fashioned from a once-living snake, whether or not it was used to heal snake bites, provide ripe almonds or other such silly miracles, one fact still remains… Seventh Century before the Common Era? You're talking about a piece of metal that's just shy of _three thousand_ years old. Don't get excited; it probably doesn't exist. Stephan is probably wrong about this thing, just like we were _all_ wrong about it being a Mayan artifact."

"What if it's all the same thing?" asked Conner. He lifted his head, peering up the aisle at the dark-furred lupine. He then lifted his phone and typed a reply text message. After a moment, his phone vibrated again. He read it then whispered, "Stephan says that it's older than that. He says that it was pre-existing before it came into use. He said King Hezekiah as part of a religious iconoclastic reform instituted the staff's destruction. He destroyed the Nehushtan, Moses staff. It was _destroyed_ in the seventh century." Another text came in, causing the phone to vibrate in Conner's palm. He read it then continued to whisper. "Stephan said this staff was used to lead survivors from Atlantis to the main shore, fifty-two hundreds years ago. For a while, the survivors held it sacred but eventually lost it. It wound up in the hands of Moses, on the other side of the world, a few centuries later. Meanwhile, the tribal survivors of Atlantis became the Mayans after a few thousand years. Eventually, they wound up in the Yucatan and stayed there for an excessively long time." Conner lifted his gaze and shook his head. "Where is he getting this _crap_ from? There's no real proof that Atlantis ever existed. Moreau's dome is named that because it's something out of mythology, _not_ history."

"You pose a good argument," said Karla with a shake of her head. "But Stephan is pretty old. He comes from a time of enlightenment that we can't even imagine. He understands technology and the laws of the universe beyond present day comprehension. For all we know, he was _there_."

The raccoon deadpanned. His eyes cut towards the attractive half-breed. "He's not five thousand years old, Karla. No more so than I am, anyhow. If this dude has an idea of where to look, I'll look there. I just want this crap to be over. I want to see if my family is alive… if they are, I want to go home. If they're not, I want to take a break and try to live for myself… either way, I'm done with Moreau after this. I'll burry him personally then I'll move on without a second thought. But so far as all of this crap we're going through… I'm tired of it. It sucks. I just want to be an ignorant fourteen year old again. I want my largest concern to be whether or not I wanna remain homeschooled. Screw this life-or-death crap. Let's just… get it done and go back to living normal lives."

No one replied. A thump of sound caught everyone's attention. They glanced back up front. Salt leaned back against the closed cockpit door, arms folded, speaking to his accomplice. No one could hear their conversation.

Karla said, "I doubt we're going to find a stick with the Maltese Viper wrapped around it, you guys. There's only one place to see the Rod of Asclepius. It's on the Emergency Medical Services' _Star of Life_ symbol on the side of an American ambulance. Symbolic icons are not necessarily real objects. That, and I seriously doubt he's that old, too. I just know he's old… maybe he knew someone who knew something…" She lifted a paw and began to rub the backside of her head where Dawn's morning attack caused a knot on the backside of her head. "All this thinking is causing my brain to hurt _more_." She leaned forward and cut a glare at Dawn. "No thanks to _you_, little missy."

"Shut up, hussy." A smirk was offered. "The guy is pretty smart – I say we give his theories a chance. It's not like we're running out of time… we only have until Monday to lose out on one artifact… but they are still no closer to this last one than anyone else. So…Whatever."

"HEY!" The two wolves up front began to march back down the aisle, able to see Conner and Dawn's muzzles moving. Salt lifted the knife. Everyone on the end seats shied back, cringing away from the aisle and his blade. "I told you guys to shut up! I originally didn't want trouble but now you've lost your chance because you can't behave!" The man quickly jerked the knife high, ready to attack.

Conner stood, drawing his flotation seat cushion up. He used it as a shield, shoving it forth in unison with Salt's forward lunge. The thick foam substance absorbed the knife blade all the way to the handle. Every passenger in the cabin had his or her eyes on the altercation.

The gray timber wolf gritted his teeth trying to push one paw forward against Conner's seat cushion while jerking his other back, clinging to the weapon. The raccoon was too quick for the reaction, however, and turned the seat cushion like a steering wheel, twisting the knife handle from the lupine's grip. Conner then kicked his foot up, shoving both wolves back. He flipped the cushion around and took it by the knife handle then began to rush forward.

He bowled both men to the floor and shouted, "IS ANYONE GOING TO HELP ME OR DO YOU PEOPLE WANT TO DIE?" He placed his right elbow against the cushion to keep it pinned then used his left paw to reach over it, grasping for the device in the gray-furred wolf's paw.

Two males from the seventh and third row jumped from their seats. Conner continued to struggle with the men on the ground then said, "Karla, a little help!" He closed his paw around Salt's wrist, digging his fingernails into the sensitive underside of his forearm. "Now!"

"I'm going to make you wish you were never born!" shouted Salt.

Keri's eyes widened and her ears perked. Salt's words replayed in her mind. It triggered a memory from her past. She lifted her paw and snapped her fingers.

Meanwhile, down on the floor, the wolf's grip loosened but not enough to drop the controller. However, right on cue, it disappeared from his palm, leaving him to close his fist with nothing in his grip. A guttural growl came from between clinched teeth as he struggled and kicked wildly. Pepper, beneath, lifted his leg.

A black-furred hind paw caught Conner in the stomach, throwing him back. He hit his head on the cabin ceiling then dropped atop of his empty seat. The headrest of his chair caught him in the middle of his back. He rolled away from it and dropped to the carpeted floor on his hip with a groan. Meanwhile, on the other side of the wolves, the two young adult men from up front worked to keep both assailants down on the floor.

Their attempts were futile. Both Salt and his cousin managed to get to their feet. Pepper turned about and swung his fist out, catching both of the other males in their faces in one swing. Both feline, they toppled backwards, spilling over seated passengers. Salt gripped the front of his shirt, facing Pepper, and tugged on it to free the fabric of wrinkles. He dusted his paws together then pivoted back towards the aft section of the plane…

…Just in time to meet a fist in his face. He teetered backwards, colliding with the darker-colored lupine. Both grunted. Salt looked up in horror after feeling the sting of pain against his face. His eyes met with the downward glare of Keri Tiikeri, whose right sleeve was rolled up to her shoulder. She reached down for him, took the gray wolf by his collar, and lifted him with her left paw then struck him a second time with her right fist. The punch left him dazed, slumped inside of the shirt that she held aloft. A third punch, straight into his left eye, and he turned to dead weight in her grip.

The burley tiger dropped the timber wolf on the floor and stepped over him and Conner's chair cushion. Pepper pivoted in an attempt to scramble way. Keri snagged his tail in her left paw then grabbed the back of his collar in her right fist. "Did you _think_ I wasn't going to _remember_ you two?" she roared in a deafening display of tiger rage. "Did you _think_ I wasn't going to remember _Florida_?" she cried in a booming, angry voice. She struck Pepper in the backside of his head with her knuckles. "Donkey Punch, mother effer!" she shouted. Her voice tapered off, shoving Pepper to the floor then she said, "Yeah, it took a few minutes for you two to jog my memory, but don't think I didn't forget!" She reached down and took Pepper by the collar and his belt, lifting him off the floor like an organic battering ram. "I hear those cockpit doors are pretty solid, let's see if I can drive your head through it," she snarled into his ear from behind.

"Wait!" he cried, struggling in her grip. She began to walk him down the aisle, growling at the back of her throat. Pepper continued to please. "Wait, please, wait it's been three years!"

"I told you if I ever found you two… there would be _hell_ to pay for what you two have done!" Her pace began to quicken as she neared the front of the plane. By the time she made it to the first class seating, Keri was nearly at a hurried gallop. She tightened her arms, lifting him a little higher. His feet dragged on the carpeted aisle, trying to snag his feet against any seat but with the first class seating being spaced well and at a forty-five degree angle to the aisle, he was unable to make purchase with anything.

Pepper lifted his head just in time for his face to slam against the heavy-duty cockpit door. She used all of her body weight to force him into the white-painted metallic surface. She then released him and stumbled forward, her shoulder careening into the door from the follow-through momentum. Pepper lay on the floor, his face snug against the door. He didn't move. Keri slumped, over exerted, slouched over him for a moment. She panted and placed a paw against his crooked neck, muttering curse words beneath her breath.

"Keri, behind you!" shouted Conner from further back in the plane. She glanced back just in time to see Salt approaching with the knife raised above his head. Behind him, Conner was on the floor trying to sit up from whatever injuries he'd sustained in his fall. Dawn was knelt besides him in an attending fashion.

Keri made an attempt to scramble over Pepper but didn't have enough time to react. Salt brought the knife down, burying it in Keri's left thigh. She cried out in anguish, reaching for his wrist. He attempted to twist the knife in her leg but her adrenaline-charged grip made it impossible.

Salt leaned forward, their eyes locked, and told her, "I remember… I should have hade my way with you, killed you and dumped your body off the coast. No time for regrets, I should make up for it _right now_."

He lifted his free paw and closed it around Keri's throat. She struggled, keeping her paws on his right forearm to keep him from twisting the knife. Hot tears of agony blurred her vision. Her ears perked, hearing a strange and sudden gasp come from the wolf. His wrist became limp in her grip. The paw on her throat loosened.

Salt's head tilted forward. His shirt was stained in red, lifted up away from his torso. He unbuttoned the top button and peered down, beneath it, looking at a piece of metal jutting from his torso. Warm breath caused his ear to flicker from behind. Conner Cooper's voice was dark but calm. "I told you it was cold but didn't hurt as much as you would imagine… I was right, wasn't I?"

Standing behind the gray-furred wolf, Conner had his left paw on the cane, halfway down the shaft. His right one was at the hooked end, holding it for leverage. "Right through the kidney," he murmured softly. "You won't have long without medical treatment. So you better let this plane land. This went really wrong from the way you expected it, huh?"

Salt's jaw quivered. He looked over at his dead cousin then back down at the gold metal jutting from his gut. "I didn't… intend to kill anyone," he murmured. "There were no bombs," he added. Then he said, "We were hired to create a distraction to the local authorities."

"Why?"

Salt began to shiver. "To buy them time." He slumped to the left. His breathing became erratic and blood began pooling on the carpeted floor. The unconscious gray wolf dropped away from the end of Conner's cane, sliding off of it. He lay, face down, on the ground besides his dead relative.

Conner threw his blood-tipped cane to the ground and approached Keri cautiously. "Is there a doctor on this plane? She's been stabbed in her leg!" No one spoke. The raccoon groaned. "Dammit! Dammit, people – not a single one of you even knows first aid?"

A stewardess from off to the left approached with a first aid kit. "This is the best I can give – it has bandages and gauze in it."

Keri reached for the kit, opened it then turned her head to Conner. "We need to apply serious pressure to this wound." Her words were eerily calm but her quivering tone suggested that she was in a great deal of pain. "But I can't pull this knife out. I need you to help me – I'll brace myself."

"Keri I… Maybe we can have Karla take it out. Pulling it out will only make it worse – she can just…"

"Conner, focus." Keri licked her lips, swallowed back the pain and said, "I know you're still fourteen at heart… you've not had the chance to grow and learn and whatever for the last three years… it's natural to be afraid to hurt me… but I need you to pull it out."

"No. Don't pull it out – it's not because I'm afraid of hurting you, said Conner. He reached for the first aid kit and pulled the bandages apart. He sprayed an anesthetic on her bloody pants then began wrapping the bandages around her leg. With each pass, he went above then below the knife. "This stays in until we can have it removed in a hospital. I'll go, too. I'm pretty banged up."

"I don't have insurance," she said, still obviously in some measure of shock. "We can't afford this kind of…"

"Keri, relax. We're both in a lot of pain, you more than me… Just relax, okay? I'll take care of the expenses, just stay calm. The more you relax, the more you help to clot the wound. Okay? I know a little bit from my parents… Make sure you don't pull that thing out. Stay _right here_ until we land." He then turned to the stewardess and said, "Call the airport and tell them we need…"

"The whole city is going to be there," she interrupted. "Medical, police, everyone. I'll make a call and let them know the attackers are under control so they send in an emergency medical team right away." She then turned to Keri and said, "He's right… don't pull out that knife on your own. Let a doctor do it."

Keri turned to Conner. "I'll go to a doctor but I don't want them operating on my leg… just… have Karla get it out, then. You're right… I just… I'm in shock and I don't make good decisions when I can't think straight."

"Ma'am, you really should leave it in until a doctor…"

This time, Conner interrupted the stewardess. "Our friend is the next closest thing." He turned back to Keri and said, "Wait until we land. Leaving it in is the only thing clotting that wound, right now. Just have patience, okay?"

Keri nodded in silence then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pre-pay cellphone. She smiled to Conner weakly. "I still have the one you gave me three years ago." She slid it beneath a strip of the bandages then tied it off and began to turn the phone slowly. She winced every so often but continued to turn the phone, using it to tighten the bandaging. "Okay, get me another piece so I can tie it off this way. It's a makeshift tourniquet but it'll have to work for now, right? …God damn this _really_ hurts."

"I bet," he replied softly. "You're doing good, just relax and sit tight. You did a great job taking these guys out."

"You helped. You saved my life," she replied. "I appreciate it."

Conner stood up and slid the cockpit door open. "We have wounded people back here. Can you …somehow expedite this whole thing?"

The co-pilot leaned back in his chair and asked, "How wounded?"

The raccoon's eyes lowered. "I… I got a little over zealous with one of the attackers. He'll die real soon if we don't …I just…" He drew in a slow breath then said, "And we have another who has a knife in her leg. It's almost a foot long and she can't pull it out or she'll bleed to death. I have bruises on my hip and waistline and I hit my head a few times. I'm sore all over. There are two guys, back in the business class, who have black eyes…"

"Understood." The copilot then turned back to the dash panel and began to radio the control tower in Bombay.

Keri placed a paw on Conner's forearm. "I bet you're glad our connector flight was in England, else we'd be in trouble because the staff would probably speak… God knows what."

"Thank heaven for small miracles." He sat up on his haunches and asked both the male copilot and female pilot, "How much longer, you two?"

The lady on the left glanced over her shoulder and said, "Look up through the glass." Stretching out before the airplane was the airport in the distance. A long strip of gray lay in front of their path like a welcome carpet at a fancy Hollywood premier.

Cooper patted Keri on her forearm. "I'm going to have nightmares about this for weeks." He offered her a lighthearted smile and a shrug. "I've never run someone through before… And for the record… you saved _my_ life, too. I was down and fazed. He could have easily finished me off with that knife."

Keri returned a dubious gaze. "Conner, Karla is _infatuated_ with you. Despite what you told her, if that guy tried to bring a knife down on you, she would have done something. I'm still not completely sold on her little tricks but… she'd have done something more than just sat there. Dawn, too… she's pretty obsessed with you, too… you saw the way she reacted when that guy threatened to run you through."

A frown. "Yeah, but she was _there_, Keri. She saw it happen to me that first time."

"Yeah…" The tigress placed her paw against her thigh, just above the jutting handle, surrounded by gauze and bandages. Silence. She passed the bandage roll back to Conner.

He fidgeted with it for a moment, sighed, then worked to lift Salt's shirt. He took a wad of gauze, stuffed it into the wound on his back then worked to get the bandage around his waist. He rolled the man onto his back, stuffed more gauze into the wound on the front, then continued to wind the bandage around him.

Keri helped Conner to get the wolf into a sitting position so that the raccoon could continue to wrap the bandage roll all the way around the wolf's waist. After several passes, they ran out of bandaging. Conner carefully removed the man's belt then put it around the bandaged area and latched it tightly. He carefully removed Pepper's belt and put it around Salt's waist, adding additional pressure.

Finally, he laid the unconscious lupine back on the ground then reached over and placed his fingers against Pepper's neck. He tightened his jaw and uttered a vituperative curse beneath his breath.

"Dead, huh?"

Conner nodded slowly. "You broke his neck, I think."

"This'll get complicated. I wonder how self defense laws work in India."

The teenager shrugged. "Technically we're not in India until we land. I don't know _how_ this will work. We don't have _time_ to sit and play games with the cops. We don't have time for a court to make a judgment."

Karla Weasel strutted up the aisle and knelt besides the two. "Dawn is handling everything fairly well. I thought she would run away like last time but… she's fairly composed." She turned her attention to Keri and asked, "How bad is it? I couldn't tell from…" She paused, looking at the crudely wrapped bandaging job with the knife handle jutting from the tiger's leg. "Don't let some piece of crap foreign doctor butcher you. I'll take that out. Then Stephan can tell us what to put on the wound to help it clot up right away."

Keri lifted her tired gaze to Karla. "I killed the black one." She nodded to the two wolves on the floor. "That's going to create a problem."

"No it's not," replied the felox with a smirk. "No body, no case. What? You guys didn't see him sneak down into the hold and jump out through the landing gear just now?" Her tone was sarcastic and devious. "I sure as hell did." She turned around, facing first class, and pulled the curtain shut that separated the seating from the stewardesses' area just before the cockpit door.

Conner reached up and took the handle of the door to the cockpit. He cleared his throats and announced, "Just make sure emergency services get their tails on the plane right away. Tell the cops that it's already clear – there's no time to wait for help." He shut the door then turned back to Karla.

Keri looked up at the nearby stewardess and said, "Miss, could you do me a favor and get me some water?"

The demure looking spaniel nodded. "It's in the back. Just give me a moment." She brushed through the closed curtain and headed towards the back of the plane.

Everyone's voice lowered once more. "Okay," said Conner. "It's now or never. How would he technically get to the hold without being seen from here?"

Karla looked around the area. Keri drew both their attention with a snap of her fingers. "Over there." She pointed to a hatch in the floor.

"Perfect." Conner crawled over to the hatch and opened it with a wince from the pain in his joints and hip. "Okay." He leaned forward, putting his head down into the hole. "I don't see much down there… but the pilot already made his descent announcement, so the landing gear is probably already down."

Karla reached down and closed her fist in Pepper's hair. She put her foot upon the side of his head then jerked her paw back, taking a clump of his hair. She turned to a dumbstruck Conner and a surprised Keri then smiled. "Evidence," she said. The felox moved over to the hatch then climbed down into it.

"I hope she hurries," said Keri with a shake of her head. "That Stewardess will be back any second…"

As if on cue, Pepper's body disappeared. Karla reappeared, sitting in one of the chairs bolted to the wall, designed for the flight attendants. Her legs were crossed, the hem of her skirt was neatly splayed out in proper fashion and her paws were folded over her elevated knee. "Hello."

The curtain drew back and the female spaniel stepped through with a bottle of water. It was wet from condensation. She passed it to Keri who opened the top and drank from it deeply.

Karla lifted her gaze to the female canine and said, "The black-furred one – he woke up and scrambled through that little hatch on the floor… where does it lead?"

The flight attendant's eyes widened. "To the hold – I'll tell the pilot!" She stepped over Conner and Keri, sliding the door open to the cockpit. "Sir, ma'am, one of the attackers escaped into the floor hatch!"

"Dammit." The copilot slid out of his chair and reached for a lockbox in a cabinet behind the controls. He stepped out of the cockpit, through the doorway then stooped down. He glanced from left to right, sighed in frustration and nervousness then went down into the hold.

The plane jolted from touchdown on the tarmac. Moments later, the copilot returned with a shake of his head. "He's not down there that I can tell… it's possible he may have somehow jumped out through the rear landing gear manifold. He'd need to have a low altitude parachute, though. I'll tell the local authorities to search the area and be on the lookout."

Keri turned her gaze back to Conner and said, "I'll only slow you guys down. If you think you can manage, go on without me and finish the job."

Cooper shook his head. "It's safe and sound until Monday. We can afford to hold off until either tonight or tomorrow. I'm more concerned about my friends right now… let's just stay calm and get the medical attention we need. I wonder what Salt was talking about before he fainted… Have any idea?"

"Not a clue. Something about a distraction… but what would he need to create a distraction for? The only thing I can think of is that there might be something about to happen and those two were trying to get the spotlight on them so that no one notices what's about to happen elsewhere."

"I'll keep my eye on the news tonight." Conner shifted his weight and placed a paw on his hip, rubbing the tender spot. "I hope we did a damn good job of ruining their plans to stall for time. I'm assuming that they wanted to create some sort of grand scene at the airport as his diversion. Now that we took them down instead… we can turn this guy," he paused to pat Salt's shoe, "over to the local authorities. When he wakes up, they'll want to know what's going on. Maybe we somehow managed to stop whatever it was that these two were trying to do… not a bad day's work, huh?"

"I hope that's the case," replied Keri with a forlorn expression and a shrug.

* * *

**A/N**: _It won't be the case. Seriously. Woops. If anything, Conner ensured that Pepper and Salt have successfully achieved their objective goals. All the local authorities will be at the airport. The bomb squad, the beat cops, you name it. Woops. Guess they should have laid low, waited until they landed, then had Karla teleport everyone off the plane or something… but you don't always think of good ideas when under tension like this… _

_With a lack of local cops in the area, Moreau's gang will be able to walk right in and do their job. SO… what's going to happen next? You'll find out in chapter 24!_

-K


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter -24-

_Mumbai, India  
Twelve hours __after__ the plane landed…_

**Conner frowned, watching through the doorway.** His eyes remained steady, zeroed in on the operating table. Karla had removed Keri's knife shortly after leaving the airport but that was hours ago and the young raccoon wanted the best for his fledgling team… Here they sat at the hospital. Conner received attention for his bruises and minor cuts. Keri, however, needed ten stitches in her leg.

He rubbed the side of his head with a frown, watching her wince from time to time as the doctor continued to run the needle through her flesh, sewing the wound shut. Never having seen the knife, the doctor glanced up at her and asked, "How did you say this happened again?"

Keri cleared her throat. "You saw the news, right? Hijacked plane?"

"That was… at _least_ ten hours ago," he said, surprised by her words.

Conner rolled his eyes. "Twelve, actually… but who is counting, right?"

"I'm very quite sorry," said the Indian doctor. He continued his work, saying, "The hospital was inundated with gunshot victims about half an hour after the hijacked plane touched down. I do apologize that you had to wait so long but most of the patients were critical – gunshot wounds and such. You've really waited _twelve_ hours to receive stitches?"

The tigress nodded slowly. "I had it wrapped tight with my belt. One of the doctors approved me for painkillers – that was about seven or eight hours ago. So, how long do I have to have these?"

"These absorbable sutures will break down and disappear after a few short weeks. Typically with a wound like this I would use non-absorbable sutures but these new sutures are very good and affordable. Besides, you won't need to return to have them removed. Unfortunately, you'll always have this scar but you should be walking without a limp in no time. You are very fortunate the way this wound looks."

Conner cut his gaze to Keri. "Karla said the blade broke. When she… _removed it_, there were two pieces. She said the blade snapped and pushed up parallel to the rest of the knife, so that it wasn't so deep."

Keri offered a semi-drunken nod, still a little weary from her last injection of painkillers. "The handle must not have been full-tang."

"How long was the blade originally?" asked the doctor.

"I guess… about ten inches." Conner paused and said, "I'm sorry… I forgot; we've just spent quite some time in Florida, America. It was about… twenty-five _centimeters_ long or so."

"This wound is not nearly that deep – it didn't touch the bone."

Keri lowered her gaze, again watching closely as the doctor stitched her wound. "Yeah, that makes sense… the blade broke and was pushed back alongside the remainder of the knife's handle – it wasn't professionally made or whatever." She smiled inwardly and shrugged weakly then said, "Yeah, I guess I _did_ get lucky."

The doctor pulled the thick black line through her flesh, completing the final pass. He cut the end of the line. Finally, the doctor walked the scissors, needle and excess line over to a sink on the far end of the room. He began to wash his hands just as the power went out.

The emergency lights, posted over most of the doors, came to life. They basked everything in a vibrant white lighting. The doctor rinsed his paws off in the sink then reached for a phone on the wall. He tapped the receiver twice then hung it up on the cradle. "Hmm, that's odd… no dial tone."

"It could be tied in to the power directly," she mused. "Don't hospitals typically have a backup generator?"

"Yes," said the doctor in his thick Indian accent. "However, it usually kicks right back on… this is taking longer than expected."

"Heads up." The voice belonged to Karla who stepped in through the doorway, paws on either side of the doorframe. "We've got company. The security guards are struggling to hold their own, even with the help of two Americans – I think they're sailors. They're gunna' need our help."

The doctor turned around from the counter. "If these attackers are pinning down the security team and two military-trained people, what help can _any_ of you provide? You may have been lucky on the airplane but this is different. One of you will be walking with a limp for at _least_ a month, one of you is black and blue beneath your fur… and…" He shook his head then turned to Karla. "Miss, you are a pretty face but that alone will not make a difference. And please try not to take this the wrong way but… you're a woman. There are a group of males on that security team and if they cannot handle it, neither can you."

The felox smirked, feeling challenged by his words. She then turned back to Conner. Preening and with a flourish gesture, Karla reached down the front of her shirt and withdrew a piece of paper. "Their orders are to terminate the raccoon who was on the news this afternoon. It says here that the team consists of two raccoons and two 'felines'. They're not overly accurate but it's close enough to assume they mean _us_."

Conner tilted his head. "The order must have come from either Moreau or one of his ranking goons. How did you get their official orders page?"

Karla shrugged. "You know I have my ways. You're not the only one here with 'Cooper Skills' so to speak." She glanced at the doctor then back to Conner. "It's like… I don't know… I just snap my fingers and the next thing you know, I have what I need and no one sees me." She offered him a knowing smile.

Keri Tiikeri groaned, still woozy from the side effects of the drugs. The tigress touched her fingernail against the scar and visibly flinched, obviously still hurting now that the painkillers were wearing off. "They've come to kill us for screwing up whatever plans they'd made… Guess we've been noticed now," said Keri. "So much for needing to find an artifact to gain his attention…" She turned to the doctor and said, "We'll be leaving, now. If they find us here with you… well, it's obvious that you would be shot or something. Thank you for your help."

"Do not stress your stitches," he told her in a firm voice. "Running will break them, so do NOT run!"

"Don't worry," interrupted Karla with a smirk. "I'll make sure she hops from one location to another in a matter of speaking." She approached Keri on the left and Conner came to the tigress' right side. They lifted the feline's arms up over each of their shoulders then hoisted her from the table together. Once outside of the room, Karla cleared her throat and, in a soft voice, said, "I know we chose this hospital because it's only a few blocks from the vault keeping that Fire Stone thing… but I'm starting to wonder if we're already too late."

"When it rains it pours," murmured Keri.

"Where is Dawn?" asked Conner as he helped to move Keri down the hall.

Karla glanced back to make sure the hallway was empty. "She's working, unlike _us_. She's setting up logistics, renting a car and everything else we'll need. No worries, she'll not be in danger from those slobs downstairs. Conner, I'll get us outside then you can take Keri out back and wait. I'll take care of these morons."

"Why? We can _all _just slip out the back and go."

Karla and Keri both turned their heads to look over at Conner. Karla cleared her throat purposely and said, "And here I thought _I_ was the one who used to have issues with a lack of humanity. Those guys will kill anyone and everyone until they've ensured that no one has escaped the hospital. It's a death squad, you retard. They kill people – that's what '_death squads_' do. I'll dispatch them and you two make a break for it. Else hundreds will likely die. I'll meet up with you shortly."

Conner gritted his teeth. "If you take a bullet, Karla…"

"What, you _care_ about me, now? Huh? Is that it? …It's about _time_." She grinned.

He sighed as the trio continued down the hallway together. "The fate of the world is supposed to rest with whoever stops Moreau. That's _us_. If we get killed before we can do something to stop him, more than _hundreds_ of people are likely to die, Karla. Believe me, I want to fight every bad guy out there and help every innocent out there and do everything I can… but we're not super heroes, Karla. We're …us."

The felox flinched and, before the blink of an eye, everyone was standing outside in the alley. She eased Keri down against the brick wall and turned to Conner. "You're a real son of a bitch, y'know that? With great power comes great responsibility. We're responsible for all these mundane idiots because they have no idea how to help us, let alone that we need help. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't help _them_. Your excuse is bullshit. I have great power, so obviously I have great responsibility. Go lick your wounds and make sure that Keri gets out of here safely. I told you before and will tell you again: I'll meet up with you shortly."

"You might be able to stop several dozen pellets of buckshot, but you can't stop hundreds upon hundreds of rounds from dozens of automatic weapons. My mother supposedly took you down more than once… She's just one person. You're up against more than one person. We've _all_ been lucky this far because we're all still alive. But risking your life is foolish because we need you to help save countless people. It's not being selfish, it's being smart. We have to choose our battles carefully else we'll never survive long enough to fight the battle that actually matters."

"And you're the one that needs to live so you can stop all of this – not me," replied Karla with a slow shake of her head. "That's why I offered to fight _this_ battle on my own. Now get your tails out of here, you two. I'll cover our path so they don't follow us or get in our way later on. We don't need these hired guns following us. This is our chance to drop beneath Moreau's radar again. Now _GO_, Conner. I'll meet up with you." She hooked a thumb to the canyon of cleavage displayed by the cut of her blouse. "I've got my cellphone." She motioned to show that it was tucked down between her breasts. "You've got my number and I've got yours. I'll meet up with you _later_! Now _GO_. Last time."

Conner clinched his jaw then sighed. He turned back to Keri and helped hoist her up to take the weight off of her injured thigh. "Let's go. Karla is _PMS_ing over these guards – let her have her way. C'mon." They hobbled through the alley away from the hospital.

Karla stood there, watching them with her arms folded. Once they were beyond her line of sight she clapped her paws and rubbed them together, rapidly. "Oh _no_! They're men and I'm a woman! Whatever shall I do?" She lifted both of her paws, snapped her fingers then made a dance-like gesture, pointing her index fingers outwards with a semi-curtsey. Her hair wavered as though a breeze toyed with the strands. Her skirt ruffled in the unseen wind. Her body disappeared from the alley.

The felox reappeared within the main hall of the hospital behind a group of hired soldiers. She took two deep breaths from the intensity of teleporting such a long distance. Up ahead of her, the men walked briskly in an unsung cadence. They hustled down the hallway headed for the main stairway. She followed them casually until they filed into the stairwell. She then disappeared again.

She returned to the physical realm at the top of the stairs, arms folded. She eased her rump up onto the banister rail and lifted on leg, placing it against the opposite rail to give the approaching men a hint of inner thigh. They hurried up the steps and the line came to a stop once they saw her.

She smiled. "What? Never ascended the Stairway to Heaven before?" Her smile broadened and, in a melodic tone, she added, "When I get there, I know, if the stores are all closed, with a word I can get what I came for." Her smile reverted to a devious looking grin. "Robert Plant was singing about _me_, gentleman …_This_ is that very same Stairway, boys." She casually lifted her paw and perused her sparkling, well-manicured nails. "Yes, boys, this _is_ the Stairway to Heaven. But not for the same reason as the classic rock song."

"She's one of the…" The third man back suddenly disappeared. He reappeared freefalling in the gap at the center of the stairwell. He flew by everyone on the circular staircase and struck the bottom, several stories down. A couple of the soldiers peered over the railing, gawking at the crumpled form far below.

"And another one's gone, and another one's gone," sang Karla, "Another one bite's the dust! Hey!" The two men at the front of the line flinched at her last outburst but she continued, "I'm gonna get you, too! Another one bites the dust." She glowered at them with a menacing grin. Quite suddenly, the two men, side by side, slammed into one another with incredible force. They stumbled to the steps, dropping to all fours looking dazed.

"Look at you little pawns," she said gleefully. "You run up the stairs in a line like good little boys, and now all of you are screwed. Is Moreau scraping the bottom of the barrel, now? What're you going to do? You're too jam-packed in here to draw your weapons, without shooting the guy in front of you… let alone deafening yourselves. This isn't very fair, now, is it? We should do this somewhere that has wide-open spaces. We need room to spread out because, let's face it… this is personal, isn't it?" Karla lowered her gaze to her shiny fingernails. "Yeah, we totally kicked the crap out of those guys on the plane this morning. I hope they were buddies of yours… anyhow, I'll see you up on the rooftop. After all, I'm the one you came for. See you there!" She reached behind herself, opened the door, backed through it then closed the door.

As soon as the door latch clicked into place, she teleported to the roof and waited. Several minutes passed. Finally, the rooftop door swung open and a line of men poured out, guns raised and at the ready. Karla, seated atop of an air conditioning unit, had her legs crossed and was again attending to her nails purposely.

One of the soldiers casually commented, "Damn she's fast."

"End of the road, lady," said one of the men. "Tell us where your friends are."

Karla tilted her head from left to right as if cracking her neck. "Beat it out of me… be rough," she told them, running her fingers through her hair playfully. "God, I _love_ it rough. Which one of you is going to put on a good show for me?"

A young boy stepped out from through the ranks of his peers. Karla blinked in surprise, half expecting a large burley man. She quirked her brows at him. "You? You're not even …_legal_. Why you? What's your name, kid?" She cut her eyes from left to right quick to note that everyone stepped back out of reverence and respect for the small-built young Asian man.

"I'm _nineteen_. You may call me _Lee_. I'll be quick but be warned… this will be painful. I'll be sure not to break you so that you can tell us what we need to know. Move into a submission pose when you are ready to give in. If you continue to get up, I'll continue my assault. Begin."

"Lee, huh? Why does _every_ oriental have to be named LEE? You guys go out of your way to tell the world that there is a _huge_ difference between Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, Cambodians… and you _all_ have the name LEE. What's up with that?" She rambled on to anger him but the young man remained calm. Finally, Karla waved a paw to show that she was ready. He broke into a sprint, heading directly towards her. He threw his arms out like a gymnast and dove into a series of flips upon approach. Stoic and un-amused, Karla looked down at her nails in display of her disinterest.

Within ten feet of her, Lee landed upon his feet then bounded straight up. He sailed towards her, extending his foot. The felox disappeared an instant before his jump kick connected with her forehead. Expecting an impact, he flailed wildly and dropped to the ground. Off balance, he whirled about in confusion but couldn't find her.

Karla reappeared in the same place as she sat before, directly behind him. She brought her left knee up and caught him in his back. She then swung a fist, striking him in the back of his neck. The felox again disappeared only to reappear to the left of Lee. She delivered another powerful strike, using her palm against the side of his face. Aided by the force of telekinesis, Lee went flying across the rooftop, twenty-five feet away. He rolled three times and came to a rest, crumpled on his side. The canine lay motionless.

She brought her paw back up, inspecting her claws to ensure that they were all intact. "That wasn't even an uppercut. You guys freaked out and backed up when he cut through the line… what did he do to earn your respect, boys? I thought he was supposed to be badass?" She turned to face the group and folded her arms. "I was just warming up."

The leader of the pack drew his pistol and fired it. Karla dramatically clutched her chest. "Oh! You've got me… oh! Right in the heart – oh the pain… the _agony!_" She dropped her paws and glared at the man holding the pistol. "Sweetheart, I hate to be an 'Indian Giver' but since we _are_ in India… heck, you can have the bullet back – no need to ask for it." The bullet reappeared behind the man and struck him in the center of his torso. It didn't penetrate his flack vest but the velocity of the round _did_ manage to knock him to the ground.

"What was that? A nine-millimeter round? Who uses a nine these days?" She sat back down on the air conditioning unit. Something struck her from behind, knocking the half-breed to the ground. She fumbled, struggling to regain her equilibrium quickly. Karla glanced over her shoulder and saw Lee behind her. "You again. Stealthy little guy, aren't you? Here… allow me to go 'ninja' on your scrawny rice-eating tail." She stood up, dusted herself off casually then lifted her paws. "C'mon, what happened to 'no mercy'? You should have snapped my neck while you had the chance, ya big jabroni."

"I told you," said Lee, "I wouldn't kill you; I plan to hurt you until you tell us where your friends are hiding." He lunged forward, fist drawn.

Karla blinked from before him and appeared behind him. She kicked at the back of his knee, causing the canine to crumble. She then returned to the rooftop directly in front of him, bringing her knee up just in time to catch the young man in his face as he fell. She jerked her paw up then thrust it down, palm outward, striking him in his head, between his ears.

Again, the amplified force of her telekinesis backed her palm strike. She drove him completely through the ceiling and into the crawlspace designed for ductwork. The ventilation collapsed and he fell through a drop ceiling and into an empty nurse's station, draped over a countertop. The hospital sprinkler system went active, spraying water throughout the entire top floor.

Karla gazed down through the hole in the roof then lifted her gaze back to the remaining sixteen soldiers. "Enough, seriously… I called you boys up here to buy my friends time to escape. They're long gone by now and I'm getting bored. Enjoy India – check out some of the food before you guys leave town, now, ya'hear?"

Karla sauntered towards the edge of the rooftop to get a good look at the city. "Now, where to go…" She rubbed her chin, looking for a place to teleport. The remaining soldiers lifted their weapons and abruptly opened fire.

She disappeared. In the blink of an eye, she returned directly behind the group of soldiers. However, one of them was paranoid and readily expecting her. He slung the butt of his rifle back and caught her across the side of her face. Karla dropped to the ground, her jaw slack from surprise.

Anger flashed in her gaze. She threw her arms outwards, using a telekinetic wave attack. The powerful force threw all sixteen men from the rooftop with excessively intense power. She rose to her feet, watching the man who struck her as he sailed over the adjacent building. Seconds later, he mercenary disappeared through the window of another tall building three blocks away. Exhausted by the energy discharge, she dropped to her rump and sat there panting from exertion.

She lifted a paw to the side of her face and felt something warm and wet against her fingertip. She drew her paw back then narrowed her eyes at the light dab of red liquid on her velvet-padded digit. Softly, she muttered the word, "Oww." Her eyes lifted seeing that there was one soldier left. He was flush up against the door that led down into the building. He slumped down the surface to a crouch and reached to rub at the backside of his head.

A smirk crept across Karla's muzzle. "If it makes you feel any better, I have one hell of a knot on the back of _my_ head, too… but it didn't come from your friends… no, it came from someone on my own team." She muttered something else beneath her breath, remembering yesterday morning when Dawn struck her with Conner's cane.

"I doubt you could win a fair fight, lady," murmured the man, sitting on his haunches.

"Yeah? You outweigh me, you have out-trained me, and you _aim_ to kill your targets, pal."

"I bet you wouldn't have a chance if you didn't use your little trick, where you jab someone and knock them a mile away."

Karla snorted. "So you want me to use realistic strike inertia? Done deal." She waggled her index finger and the soldier relocated to the center of the rooftop. Karla stood tall, stretched her back then sauntered towards him. "Do you see the blood on my face? See it, boy? I bleed… I'm as soft and tender on the inside as you and your friends. But I don't roll over and die for just _any_ body. So, what's your name, lone ranger?"

"Winthrop."

Karla quirked a brow, tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Are you _serious_? Can you possibly understand what kind of crappy drama I'm going through with someone named Winthrop right now?" She cracked her knuckles. "This is going to be therapeutic." She lowered her paws and smoothed out the lay of her skirt then said, "I'm Karla… now to make this a fair fight, throw down all your weapons except a knife and a pistol."

"Fine." He unshouldered his assault rifle. He tossed it to the side. It skittered across the rooftop. He took off his flack vest and carefully set it aside due to the grenades within the webbed net on one side. Next, he took out a silencer barrel, attached it to his pistol and told her, "So we don't walk away from this without our hearing." He gave the weapon a twirl then re-holstered it. The extended barrel jutted out through a small gap at the bottom of the hip holster. "Let's do this."

"With _pleasure_, sweetie." She gestured to him with her paw. "Come get some."

He started with a low kick, aiming for her left knee. Karla drew back her leg, taking the brunt of his attack with her shin then blocked a following punch with her forearm. She jerked her head to the left, avoiding a straight jab. He threw two more jabs but she evaded them, leaning her head back to narrowly avoid both. "That all you got, kid?" She watched him pivot. "Roundhouse, huh?"

Winthrop's foot lifted but connected with empty air. Karla reappeared behind him with a punch to his kidneys. She flitted through the air once more, reappearing before him. She gestured with one paw, causing him to teleport five feet up into the air then jerked her other arm upwards, meeting his jaw with an uppercut as he descended at the whim of gravity.

Next, she reached for his shirt and belt, picking him up the way Keri lifted one of the hijackers on the plane, earlier. However, she struggled with a long, loud grunt. Slowly, she brought him to hip height then brought her knee up into his abs. It wasn't a devastating hit and, at the end, she simply dropped him. "It's easier when I use my abilities."

Winthrop got to his knees and exhaled loudly like a sigh. "Yeah, well… women aren't designed to lift things like that. They lack muscle tissue in their shoulders that men have." He dusted himself off, brought his fists up and started over by throwing two jabs. One struck Karla in the shoulder but the other missed, going right through empty air. She reappeared two feet to the left, grabbed his wrist and pivoted. Karla backed her shoulder against his torso, bent her knees then doubled over, flipping him onto his tail.

The soldier kicked his leg up but Karla lifted her forearms, blocking the strike. She squeaked out in pain then muttered, "God damn steel-toe boots." She drew her foot back and kicked him in his collarbone then teleported him to a standing position directly in front of her. Drawing her fists back, she delivered two quick strikes to his face then teleported him again so that he appeared directly behind her. Karla lifted her left leg, catching him in the jaw with a half-turn high kick. He stumbled, bringing his paws to cover his face and exposing his mid section.

She closed her paw into a tight fist then buried it into his gut with all of her small-framed weight. He took the blow gracefully and closed his fingers around her blouse. The mercenary twisted around, throwing her.

Karla disappeared from mid air and reappeared behind him. She jumped straight up into the air and threw her leg forward, kicking him at the top of his spine. He toppled, going into a sloppy forward roll. He stood up and turned about quickly just in time to catch her attempting a sweep kick. Winthrop leapt over it and kicked his left leg up, catching her in the face.

Karla keeled to the right then waved her left arm out; her palm glowed a carnation hue. An instinctual defensive mechanism kicked in and she telekinetically threw him halfway across the roof.

He rolled several times then sat up, dizzy. "H…hey I th-thought you weren't going to do that crap!"

She winced with a nervous chuckle. Her paw came up to cup the side of her cheek. "Sorry, reflexive action."

He drew his pistol and aimed it at her while coming to his feet. "You don't hit very hard but you've got good endurance, I'll give you that."

"I didn't _hit_ you with a telekinetic strike, like you asked… I just waved my paw to throw you… _YOU_ asked me not to use my abilities during a _physical strike_, so I didn't break your silly rules."

"Whatever. Tell me where your friends are."

"Or what? You'll shoot me?"

He lifted the pistol, aiming down the length of the barrel. "If I have to."

"Do it," she chided with a smile. Her taunt worked. The man fired two quick shots. She teleported the first round and knocked the second one away with a telekinetic force wave. It struck the ground. The other round reappeared, hitting the ground just inches from his boots. He flinched in response, causing Karla's smile to broaden. "Wanna try it again?"

Winthrop charged her. He bared his shoulder as if about to tackle her then suddenly fired a volley of pistol rounds as quickly as he could move his finger on the trigger.

Karla leapt into the air. She disappeared as two rounds passed through where she once stood. A split-second later, she reappeared, burying her knee into his face only to disappear again. With a soft grunt, she landed gracefully on the ground several feet behind him then slowly lowered to one knee. "Nice job. You winged me." She moved a paw to her hip relieved at the lack of a serious wound. Barely worse than a paper cut, she inspected her blouse, where it was now torn. "But you'll have to do better than that." Again, she disappeared.

Karla struck him from behind, her middle and ring-finger knuckles were jutting out from her fist. The debilitating donkey-punch at the top of his spine caused the man to drop to the ground with a cry of pain. He wavered a bit, struggling to remain conscious.

The felox drew her paw back, shaking it rapidly to wave off the pain in her knuckles. "Hard head."

He didn't reply. Instead, he keeled over to his side, gasping for breath. His body tensed in an attempt to get up but he couldn't manage it. Through watery eyes, he glared up at her but was too dizzy to keep his gazed focused.

"That was supposed to knock you out, damn you. What's the matter… get the air knocked out of you?" She watched with feigned interest as he struggled to breathe. He clutched at his chest, which burned painfully.

She approached him slowly. "You're going to be hurting tomorrow, that's for sure. Better get some Icy-Hot for that." She knelt down besides him and smoothed out her skirt again. "Listen, you tell me where I can find your boss and I'll let you live. I won't throw you from the rooftop. I won't punch a hole into your chest and rip out whatever I can get my claws around… that's what we women do, y'know. We're very good at ripping out men's hearts. Take my word for it."

He wheezed, still unable to take a full breath. She offered him a dull glare. "Any time now. I don't have all day, good sir."

He rolled away from her to cough and gasp for air. He then rolled back towards her buried his pistol into her torso and pulled the trigger. The slide popped back but the only sound to come from the silenced weapon was a click. Karla's eyes widened and she gazed down in a measure of shock and horror. There was no pain, much like Conner once described… she blinked twice and reached for the weapon.

Karla jerked it away from her torso and lowered her gaze further. To her surprise, there was no hole, no blood and no gunpowder discharge on her blouse. The confusion only lasted a second before nervous, healthy laughter bubbled forth, ringing out in sheer relief. She saw the confusion in his eyes, as well. "You stupid fool," she giggled nervously, "Your gun jammed!"

He cut his gaze over to where her paw met his on the weapon. Part of a shell was half-lodged in the chamber. His jaw dropped, quivering in disbelief.

"Guess it wasn't in the fates, sweetheart." She jerked the gun, flipping it over. His finger, caught in the trigger guard, bent back but didn't break. He winced in pain, unable to cry out. She then flipped the gun back over the other way and pulled it out of his grip. She took it by the barrel, lifted it and clocked him in the face.

Winthrop fell back again with shallow breaths. "Under… ocean," he wheezed then rolled away from her in shame. "…Surrender."

"God damn _right_ you surrender." She threw the jammed weapon as hard as she could. It landed at the edge of the roof. Karla grumbled then waved her paw at it. The weapon went flying off into the distance. She stood up, clasping her side again. The small scratch on her hip felt like a burn mark akin to being jabbed with a lit cigarette. "Nice knowing you, Winthrop. Thanks for the fight." She kicked him in the ribs purposely as she stepped over him. "I enjoyed it." Karla walked to the edge of the rooftop, looked back at him still laid out on his side then said, "Fantasize about me. I'm the friskiest most passionate woman out there… Too bad you'll never know that side of me, huh? Maybe if you weren't such a jobber, working with the wrong side… Ah well. We all have our place in life." She then stepped off the rooftop and dropped from his sight.

Karla teleported herself to the alley then casually walked away from the hospital. She emerged from the space between the buildings. There, in front of her, was the body of an armed mercenary, lying motionless. She stepped over the dead man and crossed the street. In the distance, the flashing lights of an emergency responder vehicle approached at a high rate of speed. Karla smirked inwardly and continued across the street and down the block. Still in pain, she cradled her hip, favoring it from the pain. Her other paw rubbed at her forehead.

* * *

**An exasperated Conner** turned his head towards the door. He snarled at the sight of Karla, seeing the light blood stains on the side of her face and her ripped blouse. "We're too late," he growled. "The Fire Stone of India is _gone_."

"I had a feeling," she replied, passing through the doorway. "Do we have any idea about where in the _entire world_ we can find this staff thing that Stephan mentioned in his text messages?"

Dawn, sitting on a nearby table, slid off and approached Karla. She guided the felox over to the other end of the dirty abandoned store and sat her down on an inflated mattress against the far wall. "Yeah, we do. Hold still." She fetched a first aid kit and opened the lid, rummaging around for supplies. "Let's get you cleaned up. Ethiopia."

"Why Africa?" asked Weasel. "What's there?" She tilted her head to the side and used her paws to lift her hair and pull it back so that the cut on her forehead was exposed.

Dawn immediately began working on cleaning up the small injury. "Stephan is researching it right now. Wherever he says to go, then that's where we're going. It's probably _not_ going to be easy."

"Wonderful," replied Karla. She allowed Dawn to tend to her injuries and kept her head tilted to the side to make things easier. At this angle, she was facing Keri, further down along the wall on another inflatable mattress. The tigress was fast asleep from the painkillers. After a moment of silence, Karla added, "Your touch is strikingly soft, Dawn." The raccoon didn't reply.

Conner began pacing. "This is our _last_ chance. If Moreau's men beat us to the last piece… we're screwed – everyone's screwed. Everything, everybody… it's…"

"Relax," Karla told him. "They don't _know_ where the last piece is, let alone what it is, remember? This one will be much easier. The thing is, we can't let those guys follow us or have any way of tracking us. I'm not sure how they beat us to _this_ artifact but… it's feasible to question whether or not they've been watching us all along. Any one of us could have a bugged cell phone or a tracking beacon in our clothes. I suggest that we go out and get all new clothes, just in case… we all take a hot shower and change into the new threads. Then, we all get new cellular phones and switch the service over to the new units…" she paused then said, "except for Dawn whose cell phone is now under the skin on the bottom side of her jaw. It's pretty hard to compromise that kind of phone, I suppose."

The male raccoon sighed, visibly annoyed. "I want to get that other thing back from those guys before it gets to Moreau. There's no telling where this group of people are at right now, though… so it's pointless."

"Yeah." Karla cut her gaze back to Dawn. "I have one on my hip, too. There are a few, actually. Is there somewhere more… private so I can look myself over?"

"There's a bathroom in the back, but the toilet's cracked at the base. The sink and bathtub work, though."

Karla quirked a brow at Dawn. "There's a _bathtub_ here?"

"Yeah, I thought it was weird, too." Dawn offered a light shrug. "How's your head where I hit you yesterday morning?"

"It's still sore," admitted the half-breed. "So… same team?" She lifted a paw.

Dawn nodded. "Same team," she replied, taking Karla's paw. The two females offered one another a quick hug. Dawn slid an arm around Karla's waist, opposite of the side where her blouse was torn. She stood up slowly, helping Karla back to her feet. "It's this way," she murmured, keeping one arm around the felox's torso. She guided Karla into a back room, leaving Conner alone with the sleeping tigress over by the far wall.

He shook his head with a huff of frustration then moved over to the empty inflatable mattress, further up the wall from Keri. He laid down on it, folded his paws behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling. He closed his eyes and attempted to meditate…

* * *

…**The next morning**, Conner sat up and rubbed his eyes. Keri was still asleep but now face down on her stomach. He rubbed his eyes a second time then looked around. Dawn was sitting up, leaning against the shop's counter. Adjacent to her was Karla, paws folded in her lap. He rolled out of bed then got his knees. He then stretched and moved towards the two women across the room. "Jeeze, why didn't you guys wake me – I'd have given up the bed." He glanced over his shoulder at the now half-deflated air mattress and sighed. "We live in the age of fast computers, flying cars and realistic video games… but we've still not invented the perfect air mattress." He then glanced back at the two slumbering females sitting on the floor.

He picked up his cell phone and called Stephan. After the third ring, a tired voice answered on the other end. Conner winced. "Sorry, man… I know the time zone difference probably has you in bed or something."

"No, it's all right. I sleep at odd times. So," Stephan chuckled wearily. "I take it that you're calling to learn about the Rod of Asclepius, commonly referred to as the Nehushtan. I want you to realize something important, Conner… The Bible is very old and was written by so many people that some stories aren't properly interpreted. There were _four_ staffs of the ancient times… One was made of Sapphire, weighed a great deal but was easily held aloft by those empowered to carry it… It was thrust into the ground and from it almonds grew. It belonged to Aaron, the brother of Moses. Don't even argue – they were real men. They lived and breathed and were fantastic men with wonderful minds. Moses was a descendant of an Atlantian. He was abandoned in Egypt when groups of people were hunting down the survivors of Atlantis, calling their technology 'evil sorcery.' Moses was found in the Nile River in a wicker basket coated with a clear waterproof sealant. Technology was to be hidden in those days. The Bible later claims that Hezekiah destroyed the rod of Moses seven hundred years before the birth of Christ. He was mistaken. It was Aaron's rod that was destroyed. The staff of Moses, called the Nehushtan was supposedly made of brass and, later on, it was kept in the Ark of the Covenant for safekeeping but everyone thought it was Aaron's rod that wound up in the box. It was moved around nine hundred forty-some years before Christ, and ended up in the hands of Axum, a town in Ethiopia. It's guarded by men who live an average of thirty years or less inside a chamber with the ark. The tabernacle has not seen the light of day for about three thousand years. It was made of acacia wood – who knows if it's crumbled to dust by now?"

"We have to go there, break in and _steal_ the Staff of Moses? If there _is_ a heaven and a hell, I don't think stealing from the possible Ark of God is going to do very much for my…"

"Conner!" Stephan's voice darkened in a way. "If there _is_ a God… I highly doubt He's going to be upset with you for using that artifact to stop another cataclysm like the one that destroyed Atlantis, fifty-two hundred years ago. Now listen to me… You won't be able to steal the rod personally if the rumors about the Ark are true."

"How so?"

Stephan drew in a long, slow breath and said, "The men who are appointed to guard that box do not live very long, fulfilling lives. Perhaps they die from being inside for the rest of their natural days… but then how would you explain that almost _all_ of them have cataracts in their eyes when they die? Whatever it is, whether or not that box is Godly or really part of an extra terrestrial machine… _whatever_ causes this box to be dangerous to the mortal body… it's even more deadly to people who don't grow up around it, and supposedly those who aren't descendants of Aaron, the brother of Moses. I do not know if any of these things are true but the dead guards _have_ been documented to die after only about two and a half decades and almost _all_ of them have cataracts. This much has been recorded by scientists and documented in autopsies. Needless to say, you'll have to find another way to retrieve what's within that temple compound – the direct approach may be hazardous to your health."

"I don't even WANT to know how you know what's in there. What else is in that thing?"

"It's unknown if the Ten Commandments are still in there, but having followed up with current events that are not considered archaic… I'm rather sure that the staff is still inside the box."

Conner frowned. "If the _box_ has not rotted away to dust."

"Exactly," replied the skunk on the other end of the line. "I heard about your silly heroics on the news… way to bring attention to yourself."

"Yeah…"

Stephan cleared his throat and asked, "Keri was stabbed in her leg? How is she doing?"

"She'll be fine. At least that's what she keeps telling us. Dawn and Karla aren't giving each other dagger-eyes anymore… I'm aching all over but I feel better this morning. …And I guess we're heading to Africa. Do you have any idea about how we're supposed to make this all happen? Should we have Karla teleport us into the compound wearing biohazmat suits or something? UV sunshades?"

"I'm not sure what to tell you, Conner. To start, find a translator and keep him in the dark as best you can… I also heard in the news that the Fire Stone has disappeared… I take it your heist was a success?"

"NO!" Conner snapped in frustration. "We were too-god-damn-late. Moreau's men have it and I can't tell you how angry I am about that!"

"Calm down," replied Stephan. "Just go to Africa and take care of business. Be careful… the Nehushtan is not deadly to look upon… quite the opposite… those who look upon it were healed of snakebites… but supposedly the Ark, itself, is unhealthy to look upon… or within it. You'll need to come up with a clever way of getting the rod out without walking up to the box, opening it and reaching in like a fool."

"Understood. I'll take care of it somehow…" He sighed and asked, "What of the other two staffs? You said there were four."

"Indeed," replied the memphit. "One was created in antiquity and, later on, was passed into the hands of Rome. A Roman soldier used the tip to pierce the side of Yeshua while slumped on the cross. The fourth staff was created by a genius in Atlantis. It's fifty-three hundred years old. It's been lost to time and was a simple golden color. I'm not sure what has come of it… I've never seen it with my own eyes… It was last seen in Egypt, generations before you were born. A Pharaoh, I don't know which one, supposedly gave it to a commoner as a gift for retrieving something of immeasurable value from an evil guild. After that the commoner and the fourth staff disappeared forever. That I know of…"

"I…see." Conner glanced back at the guitar case leaning up against the wall then tightened his jaw. After another moment, they bid one another adieu and disconnected the call. Conner then turned about and cleared his voice loudly. "Okay, ladies… I hope everyone is well rested… we're going to Africa."

* * *

**Keri put her weight onto the walking stick**, easing forward through the tiny aisle with her head ducked down. The small biplane appeared to creak and waver with the team's cadence from the back to the front. She turned around and backed down the small, hinged staircase and onto the tarmac. "Okay. I'd make a 'creeping Moses' joke but… knowing why we're here… that would be a little off the cuff, huh?"

Dawn came out next and said, "Just a bit… I find your humor refreshing, though." She placed a paw on Keri's shoulder and told her, "Wait here. They always have rental wheelchairs in the landing office. I'll get one for you."

Keri shook her head. "No, no. I'll be fine. The doctor said to walk a little. The circulation ensures a lack of blood clots. I hear those can be fatal in the leg, so… I'll walk."

"Don't be paranoid," said Karla, stepping off the plane next. "Seriously, Keri… The doctor also doesn't want you to _over_exert yourself."

Keri shook her head again. "It's _fine_. We just sat on that plane for hours. When we get out to the road, we'll probably be calling a cab and sitting again. Just let me walk."

Conner stooped down, descending the staircase. "You're a trooper, Tiikeri. Your sister would be proud."

"My sister," she scoffed. "I've not seen or heard from the retard in like… forever. Anyhow, she's usually the judgmental one."

"I bet she's seen the news, though." Conner approached Keri from the other side and patted her forearm. "Speaking of that, I forgot to tell you that I picked up a newspaper before we got on the plane. It just so happens that there are a lot of international newspapers at the airport in Bombay."

Keri offered him a sidelong grin. "It's not been called Bombay in ages." She opened a paw to him and he fished out the paper, putting it into her palm. She flipped it open and read the headline. A grainy photograph of her face was on the front page, probably taken from a passenger's cell phone camera and sold off to the press. "Oh…my _god_. It says a Finnish woman with the surname 'Tiikeri' was responsible for rescuing the passengers of a hijacked airliner. The president seeks this woman with the desire to confer this heroine with one of the nation's highest honors… by making her a Knight, first class, of the Suomen Leijonan Ritarikunta. This esteemed award, for civilian merit and courageousness, is a prestigious…" she trailed off and groaned. "You can't be serious. Luckily it's one of the only countries where I don't have an outstanding arrest warrant."

Conner tilted his head. "What's the… suomen… Leijo…nan… whatever it's called?"

"The Order of the Lion of Finland. They only give out this stuff twice a year. The fourth of June and the sixth of December. It says that I _might_ be awarded such. They don't just _give_ that kind of thing out… besides, my sister and I are not exactly good people outside of Finland. However, I _will_ apparently be awarded the 'Life Saving Medal'. It's a blue ribbon with five white stripes. The medal itself, the _Hengenpelastusmitali_ is, obviously, awarded for saving lives."

Dawn blinked. "The… Hen-gen-pelastu…wow. I can't even imagine trying to say _that_ five times fast."

Keri chuckled with a shrug. "I guess I do speak a lot of languages, considering mine has such lengthy words. It's not uncommon for Finnish surnames to be over a dozen letters long. Needless to say, while so many people love other exotic languages more than their own… Finnish will always be my favorite. It's beautifully complex in an elegant way."

Dawn nodded slowly. "English is my home language but… I've always adored Japanese and that's why I learned it fluently."

"I don't have a favorite," murmured Conner. "I bastardize the three I know, too. Sometimes I don't even realize it but… I apparently mix all three at random times. I'll bounce back and forth between French and Spanish when arguing with mom, then I'll bounce between French and English with dad… It's hard not to revert to French when I grew up in France and was schooled and then home schooled there."

Karla pushed her paws into her pockets. "When you talk in your sleep, Conner, you always speak in French." She craned her neck then pointed. "There are a line of taxies way down on the main road behind the office, over there." She then added, "My Spanish needs work. I'm limited by my vocabulary with that – I make due with English and French but I'll be honest… I prefer English. It's blunt and direct and, if you feel so inclined, you can _sound_ flowery and graceful by choosing fancier words from a thesaurus. If enunciated well, it's the easiest and clearest language to understand because there are no rolling 'r' sounds, there are no throat-hocking sounds, it's easy to speak if your tongue is lazy and no matter how badly you rape the language, most people can understand what you're saying."

"What's the plan?" asked Dawn, changing the subject.

"We head to the town of Axum." Conner shrugged a bit. "All the research Dawn did on it after receiving Stephan's text messages the other day… in the end, none of that mattered… Stephan and I spoke on the phone last night and he reiterated everything we already knew and a whole lot more. Whatever the situation is, when we get there, he swears it will be tricky. No one has seen this supposed box of artifacts in about three thousand years. Whether or not it's rotted away or if it's even there at all… well, I guess we'll be finding out soon enough. The staff we need is in a box that's supposedly dangerous. He's not even sure if it's natural to this planet… or if it's merely holding something extra terrestrial inside. Whatever. It's a box with a stick and some stone slabs. Let's go get this thing and whip the crap out of Moreau."

Karla shook her head slowly. "You'd do well to have some sort of reverence for that 'box', Conner. Whether or not it's as magical as people claim after over three millennia, the fact remains… it's not going to be easy to get near this thing."

Conner opened a gate leading off the small runway and onto a sidewalk. He let everyone through then followed them. "How freakin' old is Stephan, anyhow? The more I talk to him, the more he creeps me out."

Karla shrugged and shook her head. She glanced back at Conner and said, "He's pretty old. The last of his kind, I'll tell you that much. He may not make the best decisions, like helping Moreau in an attempt to acquire all these artifacts in order to destroy them… but when it comes to knowledge… the guy knows what he's talking about. I shudder to think how old he might really be."

"Yeah…" Conner closed the gate and caught up with his team. He fished out his cell phone and pulled up a map program on the screen. "We need to trade these things in for newer models, just in case… not to mention get new clothes. We should have done that before leaving India but… I'll chalk that up to being lazy or something. Okay, Axum isn't far. It's over that way," he said, pointing to the left. The group glanced to their left and everyone froze.

Keri frowned and asked, "You mean where that plume of billowing smoke is coming from?"

Conner clinched his paws into fists. "Yeah… dammit. Not again. Let's hurry and get the hell over there." He hurried across the walkway and approached a taxicab. He opened the trunk, tossed his bagged cane in and waved the girls to hurry then opened the back door for Keri. "Let's hurry up, guys. I hope we've not seriously screwed ourselves."

* * *

**A/N**: _Okay, so now we're going to pick up the final artifact… maybe! And will it be the hardest thing Conner's ever taken in his life? Will all sorts of crazy crap happen? And what about Karla kickin' butt but being somewhat humbled by nearly taking a bullet in the gut… good thing that gun jammed, huh? :D_

_Okay, gang! See you in the next chapter! We're getting close to the end, because things are heating up, and stuff!_

_Take care!_

_-Kit / Ken_


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: _Karla fan-art is available. Check out FA or DA accounts – The artist goes by the name 'WhitMaverick'. The piece is called "Sleeping Beauty". =)_

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Chapter -25-

**The fire flickered up the walls** of a two-story stone building. Smoke poured from the crumbling rooftop where a crooked obelisk peered from out of the billowing miasma. A line of small trees stood between the team and the burning building, set every six feet along the sidewalk.

"I hope this isn't the Chapel of the Tablet," said Conner.f

Dawn shook her head. "It looks different than this on the Internet. This isn't it."

Keri placed a paw on Conner's shoulder. "We're not qualified rescue personnel and you're not at your best right now. You're almost as banged up as I am, so don't even think about it."

"No, I've been picking and choosing my battles, lately. I'm not going in there. I really had a bad feeling that Moreau's men had come and gone with the last artifact but… I guess I was wrong."

"I still have a bad feeling," replied the tigress with a shrug. "We _never_ get free handouts, Conner. Something _always_ goes wrong. Mentally, I'm ready for anything. Physically, I'm not quite so prepared."

Karla Weasel placed a paw upon her hip and glared up at the burning building. "It's been blazing out of control since we landed. Where are the fire trucks?"

"I wonder what the building was," added Dawn in a softer voice. "Karla's right… this isn't something that just goes unnoticed for an excessive length of time."

With a shrug of her shoulders, the felox boldly announced, "I'll go ask for directions. It's probably a tourist attraction in its own right, so people are bound to know where it is. Besides," she trailed off with a second shrug. "I've got to freshen up." She walked down the next block and turned left, heading towards a gas station that was cattycorner to the intersection.

Conner turned back to the burning building then said, "We could have just looked up directions on a cellular phone…"

Keri rolled her eyes. "I guess you didn't get the memo… she had to _pee_."

"In the end she's mortal," Dawn murmured to the other raccoon. "I know, I know… it surprised me, too." She then offered a wry grin. As quickly as it came, it disappeared from her face. In a serious tone, she said, "Karla was pretty torn up last night. Y'know, before we left India… I helped to clean her up. No use scolding her for running off. I know you had plans to talk to her about that but, I mean… she kept Moreau's men from being able to follow us. We're completely below the radar, now."

Conner nodded slowly. "Before we got on the plane, she told me a little secret." He reached for Dawn's paw then gently closed his fingers around it and said, "She told me why you hit her with my cane."

Dawn's eyes widened ever so slightly. "I thought she was choking you or something. I thought that Guru guy's brainwashing crap had failed or…" Her eyes lowered to the paw upon hers. A weak smile was given and she said, "I just wasn't ready for an _us_, Conner, because I felt shame for having moved on and…"

"Hey, relax." Cooper smiled. With his free paw, he gave a tug at the strap on his shoulder then glanced back at Keri. "Give us a minute, I want to talk to her real quick; just us." He nodded across the street, further away from the quietly burning building. Conner placed his free paw upon Dawn's shoulders and turned her to face him but didn't release her hand just yet. "Look… I still have feelings for you. We've gone, like… a month or something, now. Those feelings aren't going away. I don't care that you dated – you thought I was dead… you picked up the pieces and moved on… that's what you do – that's who you are. I'm not trying to rush you into anything. I just want you to know that there's no need to feel awkward. I still have feelings for you and I hope that you continue to have feelings for me. You don't even have to say anything right now. It's cool."

Her jaw tightened and she nodded slowly. "We'll figure that out later, right? Let's just get through all of this alive, first."

"Sounds perfect. I also know that you and Karla were pretty close last night. I'm… I'm glad you helped take care of her. It's cool that you patched her up. But, I mean… she's married and all."

"What is it that you think you know?" she asked, offering a nervous grin.

"I could hear you guys through the vent," said Conner with a chuckle. "Karla's quite the flirt, huh? I honestly felt awkward when she flirted with me in the past. I think she knew you hooked up with females in the past and decided to make a move on you."

"Conner…" Dawn drew her paw from his and rubbed her temples gently. "I find the perfect man and watch him die. It was agonizing. I was angry; I was upset… This cougar came into my life and she made me feel better… it wasn't even weird. I don't want to be judged over this. It was a phase, okay?"

He lifted his paws defensively. "I'm perfectly fine with it. I just… I heard Karla flirting with you last night. I didn't say or do anything… and I could barely hear you guys talking. Deep down, I was jealous – I want you for myself. When Karla told me that you hit her with my cane the other day out of jealousy… I figured to myself that I might still have a chance before _she_ steals you."

"Steals me?" Dawn broke into a fit of wild giggles. "_Steal_ me, Conner? She was _flirting_; I was amused and flirted back. I figured she was just trying to talk-the-talk, so I challenged her to walk-the-walk. It's not like we…" She paused then covered her mouth, trying not to laugh harder. "You… saw us when you woke up, didn't you? You saw us sleeping side by side, propped up against the counter… and you figured that we…" Silvery peels of feminine laughter continued to ring out. She placed a paw over her stomach and her other one upon her knee, half-leaning forward. "OH that's a riot."

"What is?" The voice belonged to Karla. "Oh, and that chapel thing isn't too far from here… And why is Keri standing alone, across the street?" She playfully hip-bumped Dawn in passing then said, "Hey, girl… I'm glad to see you laughing and smiling."

Dawn reached for Karla, placing a paw on the woman's shoulder. "Conner thinks we slept together, isn't that a riot?"

The felox grinned, turned to Conner and said, "She was amazing, Cooper. Trust me, you guys should get back together… she's _dynamite_ in bed." Karla offered Dawn a saucy wink then walked across the street towards Keri. Her voice rang out to the tigress. "Hey, Tiikeri! You want Conner to give you a piggyback ride? We don't have far to go!"

Meanwhile, Conner cut his gaze back to Dawn and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's a barrel of laughs, isn't she?"

Dawn reached up and cupped either side of Conner's face then planted a soft kiss upon his lips. He offered no resistance, instead opting to melt into it. After a moment she released him and whispered, "Nothing has changed… I'm still waiting to pick things back up between us… I just don't want it to get in the way of everything that's going on right now… have patience and don't die again. I don't want that to happen again, okay?"

Conner nodded three times and blinked. He cut his gaze to the right and blinked again, seeing Keri and Karla standing almost right besides him. They both had their arms folded. He offered a nervous smile and felt his cheeks tighten from the rush of blood to his face.

"Want some of my pain pills?" joked the feline. "Karla says we don't have far to go. Let's hobble our tails over there and get this day over with. I'm expecting a lot of death, destruction and mayhem." She rubbed her paws together as if in anticipation. "I'm _so_ ready to get shot at, stabbed again and everything else… let's rock and roll, people."

Karla came alongside of Dawn and whispered into her ear. "Isn't he cute when he blushes? You know you want to tie him down and have your way with him… Why punish yourself?" She glanced up at Conner, meeting his gaze. From behind Dawn, just beyond the female raccoon's sight, Karla playfully pretended to flick her tongue out suggestively. She pretended to nibble on Dawn's neck while Conner watched then she placed a paw just above Dawn's hip as if pretending to cup the raccoon female's side provocatively. She gauged Conner's expressive eyes then backed away from Dawn… but not before first swatting the other female upon her rump with a loud slapping sound. In an obnoxiously loud voice, Karla announced, "Let's go save the world again."

Dawn rubbed her rump then looked back up at Conner with confusion in her eyes. "What?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go follow the felox… she's awfully hyper today."

"Yeah," agreed Keri. "It's like she's glowing after last night or something."

Dawn offered them both a scolding glare. "Will you two cut it out?" She turned to follow Karla. Her tail brushed against Conner's hip and she walked down the sidewalk. Keri and Conner shrugged at one another then followed after the oddly rambunctious females in silence.

* * *

**"Here it is.**" Dawn gestured towards the once-majestic square looking building. The fancy top was missing tiles, the metal floodlights above the doorways were weather beaten and the exterior was in need of preventative maintenance.

"This is it?" Conner quirked a brow. "It's a… I mean, the thing isn't all that big… I really expected some insanely grand temple or something."

Karla folded her arms. "Moses wasn't… how you say, 'down with that', Conner. The Ark was made from acacia wood, not platinum. The rails were golden so that they wouldn't rust. But other than that… the whole false idols thing, remember? This building isn't very large, either. Keep it simple-stupid and humble as hell."

"Bad pun." Conner kept his eyes on the building across the way.

"Not intentional," she replied. Karla's left ear flickered. She cracked her knuckles, restless and ready for a challenge. "I'm all psyched up for this. Any one of us could easily die right here and right now. That thing is supposed to be nightmarishly awesome in power. Not the contents alone… but with all of them mixed together… Well, yeah. See, any piece alone is like a bomb without a detonator. You combine them… and now it's capable of stopping legions of 'heathens'. We're a band of thieves… it doesn't get too much more heathenistic than us."

Conner kept his gaze forward. "What's the matter, Karla? You afraid of abruptly catching on fire if you go inside?"

"Not for all the reasons _you're_ thinking, Cooper." Karla elbowed him in the side, gently. "It wouldn't be like a vampire walking into sunlight… If Sire were alive, we could have used his help… he could force one of the guards into giving us the staff then we could take it from Sire and run from the guard."

Conner said nothing. He kept his eyes on the building. After a few moments of silence, Dawn placed a paw on his forearm. "I'm glad Javari isn't here… I don't think I'd want to hear her success ratio guesstimate."

The raccoon teen withdrew his cane from the back holster. He then unshouldered the canvas bag and passed it to Keri for safekeeping. He stepped forward, gave the cane a gentle twirl then took a deep breath. "Karla, I'm going to try this the old fashion way. If I don't make it out of there in just a few minutes… I want you to teleport in and try. If things get dicey… Dawn, blow the building up then you and Keri do what you can to get that thing…"

"I can't believe we're going to steal from _God_," Dawn murmured. "Strange as it is, I never really had any set belief system… and yet I can't tell you how effin' scared I am about this. It's like… you don't believe in ghosts but when you're alone in a dark hallway and you feel your hair standing up on the back of your neck… and you feel a chill run down your spine… and you _know_ someone or some_thing_ is watching you… I feel that way right now."

Keri stepped forward and patted Conner's bicep. "You can do it, kiddo. You'll be fine. What's to be afraid of? If it was that deadly, we'd have heard about this in the news by now, right?"

Karla snorted. "No body, no case. If that thing turns people to dust or melts them to a small pile of steaming goo… it wouldn't make the news. There would be no witnesses except that guard."

"And God," added Conner quietly. "Okay… first of all, I'm _not_ stealing this. I'm _borrowing_ it for the good of …well, _everybody_. Second of all this thing is an object of the Old Testament. But people who believe in the New Testament have it in their possession. Fact is, _several_ religions find this thing to be a holy relic. It hasn't melted off their face… or turned them to ash, or a pile of goo or whatever… So whoever is ultimately right in their belief system, the fact remains that it isn't killing the guards. So everyone calm down and let's hope this guard isn't a Christian _Crusader_. I don't need to get run through with a broadsword."

Dawn jabbed him in the arm with a glare. "…Conner!"

He lifted his paws and waved them quickly from left to right. "Figure of speech, relax! I'm not going to die today, okay? Let's just… get this thing and go on our way."

"It probably isn't even really here," murmured Karla.

Keri arched her back, looking passed Dawn, over at the felox. "You want to teleport in there before Conner and do some recon?"

"Hell _no_ I don't want to teleport in there." She shook her head and sighed. Everyone but Conner turned to look at her. She smirked. "What? I'm not allowed to be scared white?" She cut her eyes back to Conner and added, "Figuratively, of course. Pardon me for having a built in self-preservation mechanism."

"One of us has to get off our laurels and make a try." The whole team turned to look back at Keri Tiikeri. She shrugged then reached down and rubbed her leg. "I wouldn't be able to run back out of there… so I'd have to clobber the poor guy before he could hit the alarm… We don't want to hurt him; he's just a holy roller doing his job…"

Dawn cleared her throat. "Yeah, for the rest of his natural-born life. Poor guy."

"He's a volunteer, right?" Karla folded her arms and turned her gaze back to the building again.

"No," replied Dawn. "I read that he's appointed by the last guard. If the guard dies before nominating someone… the priests at the church, next door, have to vote on someone. Goodbye social life."

"Zealots like those people don't have lives anyhow," countered Karla. "Conner… you look like you're building up the nerve to do this… are you ready?"

"I'm weighing the pros and cons of doing it now compared to waiting for nightfall."

"How's that going for ya'?" asked the half-breed with an amused smirk.

Cooper gave the cane another slow twirl. "The floodlights are probably motion activated. It's a fortress, so it's difficult to get in without those things coming on and drawing attention with the bright light. So, if I go in by day… now… I have a pretty good chance of getting in without being seen by anyone outside of the building. I'd consider leaving my staff here… since I won't need it to take the lid off of a wooden box… but I better take it with me for protection. Just in case, right?"

"You're the man," said Karla. "Go show the cosmos how this is done, Monsieur. Just remember… if Moreau ever gets wind that this is the final piece… he'll wind up nuking this place and picking up the metal staff from whatever ashes are remaining. We don't want that. So it's up to you else Axum is going to be wiped the rest of the way off the proverbial map."

Conner swallowed. His voice was soft, humble. "Yeah."

He approached the building but stopped in front of a short white wall that surrounded the perimeter. Karla appeared besides him and said, "It's probably not in there. Deuterocanonical '2' Maccabees '2', four through ten, claimed the prophet Jeremiah took the Ark, the tabernacle, the altar of incense… the whole kitten caboodle, and buried that crap in Mount Nebo, Deuteronomy thirty-four, verse one. Revelations claim the thing is in the 'temple' of God, in heaven. Eleven, nineteen – it's last seen in God's temple just before Mary gives birth to Jesus, and the Muslims belief that Mahdi, whoever _he_ is, will find it near the end of times, from Lake Tiberias. So… just… relax. It's probably not even in there."

He pursed his lips. "If it isn't, then we're all in trouble because we need what is in it."

"Prior to building Solomon's temple, I Kings chapter eight verse nine claims there's nothing inside the box save two tablets of stone. Whatever _used_ to be in there, _if_ it's there, probably _isn't_ there anymore, right? Besides, Hezekiah destroyed the rod of Moses, possibly Aaron's as well."

Conner turned to glare at her. "How the hell do you know so much about this stuff?"

Karla glared back to play off his concerns, after unintentionally outing herself. "I've dedicated my life to helping Sire and Stephan find these artifacts, remember, douche bag? The plan was to uncover everything then hide it _better_. Like, maybe… in a black hole or something. Stephan is scared to death that another fifty-two hundred year old cataclysm will happen. It shouldn't be as bad as one that supposedly happened twenty-six _thousand_ years ago, though. Anyway, Sire, in the end, duped us all… he wanted that crap for himself and he wanted me to help him. I've studied that crap over and over. We used a six hundred year old bible and a five hundred year old Qur'an to find at least _half_ of the stuff. Moreau somehow got a hold of the shipment containers we kept them in at some point after I was put into stasis. Just… go do it, Conner."

"Shut up and let me work, okay?" He narrowed his gaze at Karla who disappeared. She returned to Dawn and Keri's side. Conner licked his lips to get his nerve up then hopped over the white wall, waded through the garden and bound over the green fence set atop of an old brick wall. He approached the building, tightened his jaw and went for the door. It was unlocked much to his surprise.

A square hallway surrounded the interior of the building with another room at the core. He opened another door and came face to face with a bearded man in decadent red robes with a pillbox hat. The dark-furred gentleman's peppered beard was close to the coloration of the milky cataracts in his eyes. "My name is Mikail Johannes Kioko. You won't be going any further, young boy." He was a red-furred Ethiopian wolf with black paws, neck, tail and muzzle. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow from the day's heat.

"I'm… I'm sorry; I've come for the contents of the box. There's a staff in there and I need it and…" He blinked. "You're speaking English?"

"I don't know English," said Mikail. "Do you speak African? I doubt it. Do you not know the holy language of Tongues? Fortunately for you, boy, I am gifted with such. You are in danger, here. You must leave – your entrance is not permitted." The man reached for a red alarm button mounted on the wall nearby.

Conner used his cane, snagging the man's wrist with the hook to keep him from reaching up for the alarm panel. "Please… don't make this hard on us both, sir. I require the staff inside the box."

"There is no staff inside the box," said Mikail, "there is no box in this building."

"What?" Conner exclaimed. "There's supposed to be a wooden Ark with gold-plated trim. Inside of it, there's supposed to be some stone tablets and a staff. And I need that staff else this building isn't going to mean squat much longer."

"There _is_ an Ark with relics inside. But there is no 'box'. Whatever you think you know about the Ark is beyond your comprehension. Release my arm and leave, now."

Conner gritted his teeth. "I've come for it and I'm not leaving without it. Step aside, old man. Don't naively become the reason the whole freaking world goes to hell – let me do my job. I'll return the thing when I'm done with it, now _move_." Conner lifted his free paw and pushed the man back towards the center of the inner sanctum. He turned the staff about, until the hook was now around the wolf's muzzle. "Don't shout for help, either. I'm not here to hurt anyone."

The man's eyes widened, getting a closer look at the golden cane. "…Fantastic. It's the cane held by the Seraphim."

"I'm not here to play games, Mister Kioko. I'm in a hurry, sir."

"You're related to Slytankhamen the Second… he used Canaanite sickle-sword versions of this cane, known as the Khopesh. It's traced to the third millennium BC Sumer. They were designed to be a sixty-centimeter version of _this_ cane. They went out of use around thirteen hundred years before Christ. Do you _realize_ what you hold, boy?"

"My family heirloom. I don't want trouble. I'm here to take the staff inside the Ark. I need to borrow it… this sounds silly but… I need it to save the world, old man. Where is the Ark?"

The man stepped back further. He lifted a paw to Conner and said, "I ask you to wait. Have faith that I will not sound the alarm – wait here." He turned about and came face to face with an old rectangular box. It sat in the dark but every detail was easily seen. Atop of it were two wooden angels or birds of some sort. From behind the wolf, Conner couldn't see it very well. The lid had twin Seraphims identical to the ones carved into King Tutankhamun's tomb. The sides of the box were very plain yet elegant. Halfway down were golden rings but there were no poles within them. Conner was developing a headache.

He brought his paws to either side of his head, rubbing at the temples. "I've seen the marks on the lid of that thing… they were on King Tut's tomb. The design around the angels are different… but the winged angels, themselves, are… they look identical."

"The more you look in the Ark's general direction, the more your head will hurt. Energy from your eyes causes capillary swelling, which will eventually cause a stroke or similar type of brain bleed. Just because I'm a guard of a tiny little building in East Africa, don't go thinking I don't know anything about the modern day, like… medical technology. Did you know we have Wi-Fi, here? Do yourself a favor and avert your eyes. Oh, and by the way… the angels were Metatron's idea."

"…Who?"

"The angel who caught the hand of Abraham from sacrificing Isaac, his son. He's not seen, only heard but can be punished, as he is not a godly being, but a simple servant. Turn your back, boy."

Conner tightened his jaw again then turned away. Seconds later, the walls glowed with an ethereal light. It lasted for mere seconds before the room darkened again. Before he could turn around, the man placed a paw on Conner's shoulder.

Cooper turned about and murmured, "You're fast for an old man." He blinked, seeing the elegant staff in the wolf's other paw. "…Wow." He was amazed at how unsophisticated and plain the staff was. The simplistic bronze snake that coiled around the staff was corroded and old. "It looks _really_ brittle." On the backside of the snake's head, there was a marred section that looked as though a small piece may have been broken off once upon a time.

Mikail lowered the cane and tapped the top against the concrete floor firmly. "A clear protective layer, most likely God's divine power, now protects this ancient artifact. It's not nearly as old as yours, though. Be sure to return this." He passed it forward to Conner then asked, "How did you know Moses' staff survived the wrath of Hezekiah's new order? Let alone, how did you know it was here?"

"Someone told me it would be here and that Aaron's staff was the one destroyed. What can it do?"

"Heal snake bites," replied the man. "It's merely an antenna of the will of a God-loving man. Look into your heart. If it's pure, He will look into your soul and it will do as you need it to do."

"But… I'm a thief. It won't work for me."

"Do you steal from people or do you steal from the wicked?"

Conner tilted his head, bringing both canes together. "I only steal from thieves. It's our way."

"Then your shame is not what you thought. You punish the wicked. It is your way – have faith in yourself and in your Creator." The man placed a gnarled old paw upon Conner's shoulder, patting it firmly. "And know that I'm not some lowly old man, boy. I could easily have stood up to the pretty little golden-haired female you left out in the street. _God_ is _my_ power, boy. My only crutch is age – the most natural of all our abilities… One day you, her, and all your friends will be as old as I am. Your bodies will _look_ frail and aged. But without the power of God, you'll _be_ frail and weak."

"No offence but…"

"None taken." Mikail, with his paw still upon Conner's shoulder, shoved the raccoon up against the wall three feet off the ground with relative ease. "God's power is something you cannot understand until you've given yourself to Him. Perhaps you'll one day understand." He released his grip and Conner dropped to his feet. The wolf cleared his throat and said, "There _is_ Godly power endowed within the object of your fancy. Worry not if your faith is lacking… perhaps the power of God will help to restore your faith. Miracles aren't simply a thing of the past. You'll see." He offered a smile then motioned for the door. "When you step through that archway, you'll stand before Metatron. He'll become visible to you and you will prove to him your worth. He'll deem you worthy to carry that artifact. Stand tall." He then stepped forward again and gave Conner a push, backwards, through the doorway. The physical realm melted around the teenager and everything went dark.

* * *

**A voice that boomed like a roll of thunder** filled Conner's ears. "They once called this the Caduceus. The winged staff. It had two snakes wrapped about it like ribbons… The double helix; it represents the human DNA strand… the symbolic healing staff of the Greek 'god', Hermes… protector of _merchants and thieves_. Ironic that it should end up in the hands of your family."

Conner Cooper sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He stood before a tall man seated in a chair. Draped in elegant red robes, the man sat taller than Conner stood. Thirty-six fantastic groupings of vibrant white fathers emanated from his back but appeared translucent and illuminated. The man wore a crown and held a long cane made of Platinum. He stood up, towering over the raccoon. He was furless, comprised of flesh. He radiated with simplistic beauty. "And you are Conner… a lost soul who wishes to understand his place in this world."

"I guess you're here to tell me that God exists and that I have to be worthy to handle this staff?"

The towering angel shook his head. "No, dear boy. I'm an icon of many religions. I'm an icon of witchcraft. But in reality I am a mere messenger and a scribe. I'm not here to tell you what religion is right, or if witchcraft is the way to truth. You must find that answer for yourself then have faith in your choice. No, I am here to deem you worthiness, personally. You may call me Enoch." He turned away from Conner and gestured with his long, straight metallic staff to the empty wasteland the raccoon failed to notice until now. "Your mother has seen this barren landscape, once. She would understand what you're seeing right now."

"Where am I?"

"Limbo is a good mortal name for this place. You may call it such. I once walked the planes of the Earth, as you do, nine thousand years ago."

Conner smirked. "I suppose that disproves the people who claim the earth is only six or seven thousand years old."

"There are ages that we pass through. The first major age happened twenty-six thousand, five hundred years ago. Life became common as it is today. I don't expect you to understand something that far back. It is of no consequence – just know that is when the consciousness evolved and things changed. There was one magnificent city. They were the ancestors of those who dwelled in the Enchanted land that floated above the waters."

"Atlantis? It's that old?"

"It fell from grace over five thousand years ago. They once called themselves the 'Enlightened Ones' and the people of the earth were referred to as the "Earthbound Ones". Not bound _for_ Earth; bound _to_ Earth. Gabriel sounded her horn as the city crashed into the ocean. She will not sound the horn again until Judgment Day."

"She? Gabriel is actually a _female_?"

"We have no gender. The word I used was merely a pronoun. We do not dwell in a place of dust and matter the way you might imagine. We exist _only_ in the hearts of mortals. There, within that place, is the Kingdom of Heaven. It exists within the hearts of mortals and that is why I am here. I've looked into your heart, Conner… I exist there… Know that you cannot succeed what you are about to do should you do such with vengeance. Your journey must take place for reasons other than _wrath_ or you will fail." He lifted his staff.

Conner held the Cooper Cane in one paw, the Rod of Moses in the other… and neither of them were enough to protect him from the beautiful metallic staff held by Enoch. The raccoon toppled to the dusty ground with a grunt. "What's happened to me in the real world?"

"Your corporeal form appears in a coma. It is being whisked away by three people who know only loyalty to your cause. These canes predate the current age and must be respected. Treat them with reverence."

"All of this nonsense is awfully religious. How do I know I'm picking the right one? I mean… everyone has a set of beliefs but… what's right? And what about all these artifacts being gathered by that guy, Alphonse Moreau?"

"I'm not here to alter your beliefs. That is for you to ponder. Make a decision. Have faith in whatever it is that you decide. As I said earlier… I'm only here to ensure that you are ready to wield these two canes together. Do you remember the fiery building you saw when you arrived off your airplane, boy?"

"I do."

"That's where your test will begin. Into the flames with you." The towering being of flesh waved a graceful, peach-hued hand and Conner found himself atop the building. The raccoon approached the edge of the roof and gazed out. Axum's streets were missing. They were instead replaced by the dusty plains of Limbo.

* * *

**"He's burning up."** Dawn placed her palm against Conner's nose then trailed her paw back to his forehead "Dry nose, he's way overheated but he's not sweating. We need to find some water and pour it on him…"

"Where are we going to find ice cold water, here?" asked Karla.

Dawn shook her head. "No, we don't need _cold_ water. Cold water will close his pores. We need something lukewarm that will open his pores. Let's get him into the shade. Karla?"

"Grab his feet, I'll take his head and shoulders." She watched as Dawn displayed an expression of incredulousness. "Will you relax? I'm not going to make you carry him… but he doesn't want me using my abilities for public display. Grab his feet." Using her telekinetic powers, she bolstered their strength ten fold so that his body seemed to weigh less than five pounds.

Keri approached them, grabbed Conner's tail and drew it up over his waist so that it wouldn't drag the ground. "Okay, girls. Let's head back towards the burning building. One, there was a place across the street that had an awning and looked abandoned. Two, if emergency services _do_ show up, they'll be able to provide some sort of … something." She carefully lowered to one knee so as not to put too much pressure on her injured thigh. Carefully, she picked up both canes and placed them into Conner's canvas guitar bag then zipped it shut. "You're right, Dawn… Conner's cane _is_ hot to the touch."

Karla nodded to the side. "Let's walk sideways together. It'll be easier. Also, I saw a fountain back towards that smoking building." She lifted her head and located the smoke rising into the sky. "That way – let's go."

* * *

**The sky above was a black stoma** – a wormhole that filled the heavens above. Conner gritted his teeth, holding a cane in each paw. He placed the staff with the snakeheads into his holster and ran forward. There was a tilted obelisk across a gap from him. At the top was a slender metal rod sticking up – most likely a lightening pole. He dashed towards it and used the hooked cane to snag the top. He swung across the gap and dropped to all fours on the other side.

The smoke made it hard to breathe, causing him to gag and occasionally wheeze for air. He came to the other end of the rooftop and peered out over the side of the building, looking for a way to parasail or even rappel down the outer wall. Oddly, it appeared far longer than two stories. "Okay, I've done E-two and E-three Grade Seven, Class Five climbs with dad… I can do this." He leaned over the edge and narrowed his gaze, squinting to see the bottom. A lake of glowing blood surrounded the foundation. He blinked from incomprehension. "Is that… _lava_?" Conner held his hand out over the side but didn't feel any intense heat. He placed his paws together and cracked his knuckles. "Other side seems safer."

Conner leaned further over the side and spotted a window. He literally leapt over the side and snagged his cane in the window frame then swung in through the opening. The raccoon tumbled to the ground in a hot room. The fire wasn't within visual range but he could hear the roar of the nearby inferno. He knelt down to stay beneath the rolling smoke and crawled through to the doorway and into a hall.

Ahead of him, fragments from the rooftop littered the floor, barring his passage. He tried knocking pieces away with his cane but they weighed too much. He clinched his paws and tried to relax his body in order to focus. His back itched; his spine ached. Before long, the aching and itching became too much. Conner removed the staff from its holster, now holding both. As if on cue, the itching and the aching concluded. He blinked, glaring at the second staff in his grip.

After a moment, he returned his family cane to the holster and gave the new rod a slow twirl to get a feel for its weight. His eyes lifted back to the debris but now the fragments were lined with a sparkling blue aura. He twitched then sniffed at the air around him. From here, all the smoke rose through the hole in the ceiling above, making it easier to breathe in the hall.

Conner tried wedging a chunk of debris from its resting spot with the staff but was unable to move it. He then tried striking the piece with the staff to no avail. In frustration, he brought the hilt to the floor, striking the ground. Nothing happened but in the brief instant he struck the floor, the sparkling blue aura around each fragment intensified like a flash of lightning. He experimented in an attempt to gain the same result by slamming the bottom of the staff back on the ground. Another flash emanated from the blockade.

With a grunt, the raccoon lifted the staff as high as he could and brought it down to the ground with all of his might. He doubled over violently, throwing all of his weight into it and, to his breathless surprise, the fragments of ceiling and rooftop blew apart, creating a canyon of passage. The slabs of cement and large pieces of debris lined the wall in a sloppy manner but stayed open for him to pass. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

He hurried down the stairs to the next level where the floor was covered with black snakes, each the length of his forearm. "Adders, Cobras and Asps, oh my," he murmured, repeating it slightly louder this time. Conner tightened his jaw. "How's _that_ for cultural knowledge, Tiikeri sisters."

* * *

**"What did he just say?"**asked Keri with a puzzled look on her face. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

"It sounded like he was talking to _you_," replied Dawn. "He's not even conscious – that's really strange."

"Not only that, there aren't any snakes around," said Karla. "Asps are the Egyptian snakes that Cleopatra used in order to commit suicide."

"Hey, he doesn't sound good." Dawn's concerned tone brought the attention of the Keri and Karla. Conner's breathing sounded labored. His left arm twitched and his forearm contracted with spasms.

They placed him on the ground in the shade across from the burning building. Keri glanced around, hoping to see emergency services but was disappointed by their lack of appearance.

Dawn fanned him gently while Karla conjured fountain water over to an empty canteen. He opened the top and poured it on the teenager's neck and arm. She then dabbed water upon the top of his nose to moisten it. She emptied the water atop of his head to cool him down. "He's still burning up, girls. Dawn, see if you can flag down someone and have him or her call for help. Keri, take his gear and help me get his shirt off. I'll get more water and we'll try to cool him down by pouring it on his chest or something."

* * *

**Conner sighed in slight relief** although he still struggled to breathe. His arm was throbbing with rapidly spreading acute pain. He lay on the ground, unable to continue forward from dizziness. The snakes slithered across his legs and torso as he struggled to crawl through the pit. The floor squirmed, alive from the layers upon layers of small reptiles. "Dammit," he murmured through clinched teeth.

He rolled over onto his side, conceding defeat from pain. His head tilted a bit, glancing down at the swelling spot on his arm. He couldn't feel his fingers. He released his grip upon the the staff and it began to move away from him on the backs of the undulating floor tiles. As it gained some distance, it moved into his direct view. The snake-like bronze fixture atop of the rod began to incandesce. He was unsure whether or not it was from hallucination due to the snakebite.

"This is all your fault," he murmured to the staff. His eyes met with the glowing tiny eyes of the bronze snake at the top of the cane. "Ironic; your friends must be starving." His eyes felt dry but, strangely, his neck, chest and behind his ears felt cool relief spreading through his fur. "God that's nice… I guess it won't be much longer now…" He kept his gaze upon the bronze fixture. His eyes were drying out and his vision was growing hazy. As he fought for consciousness, he could tell that the fixture was glowing brighter. "I must be dreaming," he murmured with a slur.

The glow intensified until it became difficult to see but his eyes were too dried out for his lids to close. His pupils shrank to pinholes and his body convulsed from seizure. The glowing continued to shine in his face…

Conner suddenly blinked and sat up. The blindingly intense pain was gone. The swelling in his arm faded. He blinked a few more times to get the moisture back into his eyes then he took a deep, satisfying breath. The air tasted wonderful and clean despite the heat. The snakes on the floor lay all around him, dead and motionless. He crawled over to the bronze staff and picked it up. "I can't even begin to understand what's happening to me," he muttered with a touch of contempt in his voice. "I thought snakes were supposed to be a sign of Egyptian Royalty," he murmured, coming to his feet.

Carefully, he waded through the layers of dead snakes only to be startled by a voice behind him. "You speak of Wadjet," said Enoch. "The sign you mention is the symbol known as the Uraeus. Wadjet was a true flesh and blood creature, one of the oldest in the land of Nod."

"Where the heck is Nod at? I don't know it." He turned around, glancing over his shoulder at the unrealistically tall character. Where Metatron walked, the snakes materialized into salt. Conner tightened his jaw again then asked, "Are you saying that _Egypt _is Nod?"

"Anywhere outside of modern day Iraq is considered Nod. Nod is the world outside the Garden. Wadjet was one of several recipients of the children born of Lilith. One to a wolf, one to a snake, one to…"

"I don't care!" exclaimed the raccoon. "Seriously, I don't care. So the snake gets a baby, the baby becomes an Egyptian deity and the Egyptians think she is awesome so they pray to her and make a sign of the snake because they think she's the _bee's knees_. Great, splendid. Fan-freakin'-tastic. So what? Unless she's going to get her snakey-butt out of hiding and help me stop Alphonse Moreau from screwing up my future… I don't want to talk about her. I have things to do, man. I need to stomp this guy all over town. If vengeance is a bad thing, oh well… then it makes sense, because I'm about to do _very_ bad things to this guy."

Enoch nodded. "He is the greediest man I've seen. He lusts for these artifacts, consumed by madness. Become God's wrath and strike down Alphonse Moreau. Return the horded artifacts to their rightful resting places, throughout the globe. Without the Mask of Dark Earth to help control these unified pieces, they will cause only extensive death and incredible destruction."

"Yeah? So why doesn't God do some Divine Intervention and rock this guy off his soap box?"

Enoch shook his head slowly. "God has made a promise two times. The first pact was sealed with a rainbow that ended forty days and forty nights of flooding. The second pact was written with the blood of his Son. He lay down the flaming sword of Michael and gave people a truer more meaningful covenant of freewill. God no longer strikes down his enemies but, rather, empowers his allies that they may reap the reward of defeating such foes. God has not been vengeful in such a way in over two thousand years. Earlier, I'd asked you _not_ to fight Moreau out of vengeance but… I'm beginning to see that it empowers you from within… perhaps I was initially mistaken. Summon the hurt and the loss you feel… and use it in a positive way."

"Fine. I'll do it. I'll find Moreau and rip him apart. But I'm not doing it for you or for God or for my parents or for anyone else… I'm doing it for _me_."

The angel lifted his mighty, broad hand and nodded. "You have what you've come for. You now know what it does and how it should be used. It is not a weapon. It is a marker of faith and divine power… a beacon of guidance. Use it only as such. Do _not_ strike down your foes with that staff lest you sully and tarnish it."

"I've got _this_," said Conner, drawing out his other cane. He gave the golden pole a twirl off the back of his knuckles. "Listen, just point me back in the direction of my friends so we can do our job."

"You'll be tempted in a great many things along the way. Keep your focus. And for Heaven's sake… repair your relationship with Dawn."

Conner blinked. "Say _what_?"

Metatron smiled. "I am a protector of Children… I fancy them and their imagination, their clever young minds and their powerful hearts. Bring children into this world, Conner. I'm helping you because you are still a child. I'll watch over you until the day you become a man. Call upon me for my aid – pray to God for His divine strength. Believe in yourself and find your faith, Conner." He lifted his mighty hand and pointed behind Cooper, saying, "Now go. Your friends await – don't worry them any further."

Conner stared at the man for a long moment. "Thanks, Enoch." He nodded respectively then he turned around and ran for the exit door. The fire, now burned out, left nothing more than a charred husk of the building's inner structure. He hurried through the doorway, out into the street and rushed towards the three females across the way…

* * *

**Conner Cooper sat up with a groan.** He rubbed the side of his face then looked from Karla to Keri to Dawn. "Damn do I have one hell of a headache."

"Conner!" Dawn shouted, quickly embracing him around the neck. "Thank God!"

Karla placed a paw on Conner's head, patting him behind the ears. "Who is 'Enoch?' You said his name along with a bunch of other things right before you woke up."

The teenage boy blinked at Weasel's wife and shook his head with a shrug. "I was _asleep_ just now?" He patted himself down realizing that he was wet and without a shirt.

Karla nodded. "Indeed, you were out for quite some time." She helped him to his feet, regardless of the fact that Dawn hadn't yet relinquished her embrace around his neck. The two raccoons stood up together. "We've got both canes in the bag. We're ready to head back to Florida."

"Fine, let's split-city then." Conner patted Dawn gently on the shoulders, easing her away long enough to rub at his face from the pain behind his temples, eyes and the nape of his neck. "What was I doing while I was out?" He reached for the offered shirt and put it on then replaced his leather holster, fastening it carefully at the buckle.

"At one point," said Dawn, "You were in shock. Your arm was swollen up, you had a fever and you were having seizures. When the convulsions began, I took your passport wallet out and put it between your teeth to keep you from biting off your tongue."

Conner quirked his brows in disbelief. "You did? I bit it?"

Dawn withdrew it from her pocket. Of the group of passports, his was the only one with intensely deep bitemark patterns, which showed on both sides. She opened it for him so he could see that his fangs mangled the interior in four places. "It's pretty extensive. You can always tell the airport… uh… well, I'll come up with a good excuse if you give me a few minutes. Needless to say, Conner, I was very worried about you and…" A gunshot rang out, startling her into silence.

Another one cracked the silence around them. A puff of dust and sand expoded at their feet, startling everyone.

Conner gritted his teeth in frustration. "Karla, get them out of here. I'll meet up with you guys at the airport. Have four tickets booked and ready to get us back to the States as soon as possible. Don't do anything selfish like last time."

"Screw off, Cooper." Karla sneered at him then waved a paw and all three females disappeared. Another gunshot rang out, striking the guitar case on the curb. Conner shouldered it quickly then darted out from beneath the awning. He cut his gaze over to the burning building across the street, while running, and shook his head at the memory of his apparent 'dream'.

A sobering reminder of his reality came with another thunderous sound. A round sailed by him with a loud whistle. It struck a nearby street sign, creating an irritating 'clang' from the force. He cut his gaze up, seeing the exit hole blasted through the metallic surface as he ran past. "At least I _know_ for sure you're behind me, now," he muttered while running. Conner zigzagged his footfalls, weaving from left to right to better evade the gunner.

He darted into a store, back out through the side door, across the alley and into another building. Conner continued through the back, across another alley, into another building then darted across the street, hurrying through a church. He emerged from the backside, crossed the next street and down the block, darting into another alley. There were two men kneeling on the ground upon small square carpets. They were on all fours, offering praise and prayers. Conner leapt over the one on the right and continued down the alley as quickly as he could run.

He suddenly skidded to a halt and glanced back over his shoulder. The raccoon blinked twice then snapped his fingers and took off running again. He crossed the next street and disappeared into another store. When he emerged from the backside, he wore a turban, a robe and held a prayer carpet under one arm. He kept the canvas guitar case hidden beneath the robe, embraced under his left arm. Conner moved out to the sidewalk, dropped the carpet square and knelt down upon it. He lowered all the way down then peered up while keeping his chin lowered.

Mimicking the Muslim prayers he'd witnessed, Conner kept his head down, watching the area for possible sniper points. A small convoy of jeeps slowly rumbled down the road. Conner stayed as low as he could, on all fours, peering up discretely. He blinked twice, seeing one of the men in the passenger seat of the second jeep. "Boris," he murmured, remembering the man from the casino. The man's window was open. Conner could hear him speaking to the driver.

"When we find that stupid god damn stick, Moreau will be finished with his collection. Then _all_ of us can retire. I'm not quite sure what he'd want with this stupid little red stone, though. I thought it was supposed to be a ruby."

The driver asked, "If it's not a ruby, what is it?"

"Fossilized tree sap. Amber or something like that. But it's definitely not a ruby." Their voices faded, mixing into the sound of the Chrysler engines.

Conner's eyes widened but he kept his head down. The three jeeps turned at the end of the block then came to a stop. The men got out of their vehicles and entered a hotel on the corner. The raccoon stood up, taking the carpet square in his right paw then he began to walk down the street calmly headed for the hotel. "You've _got_ to be kidding me… talk about fate, those guys are about to get a little visit from the Karma Police." He cracked his knuckles and drew out his cellular phone. Dawn answered. Conner cleared his throat and asked, "Are you guys okay?"

Over the line, Dawn said, "Yes, we're fine… I'm glad you called me. Someone was seriously shooting at us? God, I haven't been this scared since… three years ago… when you and I came back to my apartment and… Rachel Razin, I think that was her name. I can't remember for sure – I tried to put that out of my head for good."

"Look, the guys who hired the shooter… they're in the area like the snakes they are. I heard that many snakes stay within twenty feet of their victim, just waiting for the venom to kick in… these guys are staying at a local hotel in the area and they have the Fire Stone of India. I'm going to take it from them. The shooter was supposed to do the job and then they would come in and pick up the staff… but I'm in a disguise right now."

"Look, Conner, I'm staying. Karla and Keri can head back to Florida but you need logistical support. Let's just… do this together. We can strike tonight."

"Yeah?" He grinned inwardly. "Just us, huh? Like old times? Same rules for success?"

Silence. After a moment, she sighed with a soft chuckle. "Yes, if we successfully walk away with both pieces intact, I'll let you kiss me again. Agreed?"

"Tell the other girls I said _bon voyage_. I'm looking forward to this. Okay, I'm going to hang up then I'll text you an address. Get a taxi or something and I'll meet you there."

* * *

A/N: _Okay, a few things… one, I'm doing this so that I can have one lil' scene about Dawn and Conner because I really wanted to tie up that loose end before we finish this story… now's the time for that. Next, after Karla's shining scene… she needed a short break. I love Karla, too… she just needed a short break so that when I throw her some more fire later on… she won't look like a stage-hog. _

_WhitMaverick, an anthro artist who posts work on both DeviantArt and FurAffinity, has done a FANTASTIC art piece of Karla while she was in cryogenic stasis. If you don't have an account on either site, ask me and I'll email it to you. Else, you can just look it up. The piece is entitled "Sleeping Beauty" but requires an account for either DA or FA to view. Many of you have already seen it… I love it. xD_

_Okay. Next order of business… I still have Spy Cooper to finish… so no worries about this story ending… although I admit that I, too, like Conner enough to continue his life story. Maybe after I finish Spy Cooper? Or perhaps after I finish Reflections of Marcus McCloud? I'm not sure. _

_I have, however, vowed to myself that I would like to focus on original stories after the New Year. So as of January, I'll start adding originals to FictionPress DOT com. It's the sister site of FanFiction Net… even the layout is identical. _

_The stories I write there… I will sail through them then I will shop them for publication. Should I do a human version of Karla as the main character? LMAO_

_Finally, a few days after the death of Michael Jackson, I couldn't help but notice that Evan Chandler's son, Jordan, has come out of the closet and said, "I lied for my father. MJ was innocent all along." Wow. Funny how they have to wait a decade and a half later, then only come out because of guilt… I guess that means the 80's superstar icon will finally have people stop scrutinizing his life and start celebrating his achievements. I was never a huge Michael Jackson fan but… I'm a huge music junkie. And I never thought MJ was guilty of anything more than being a little naïve and unprofessional when off stage. And hey, we're all unprofessional in our own way, right? Oh, and I just read that the son of Evan Chandler has apparently come out and said that his father lied to extort money from MJ for the near-70 thousand bucks of back child support he owed to June Chandler. The story gets ever-deeper. But I guess we can now rest assured that MJ isn't a freak, just... weird. But weirdness doesn't make one a child molester - I'm weird and I'm a pretty cool dad :)_

_Not only that, but it's like… celebrity death day… Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett? Then my doctor, Raymond Peter Srsic, also died on that Thursday. I've gone to this doctor for twenty-four and a half years, now. We're talking a quarter century. My oldest son, Richie, went to Dr. Srsic. Well, the guy was really old… and he was struggling with ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease). Those two combined will really take ya down. So, like… damn. It's been one heck of a week for celebs. My doctor was kind of a local celeb… professor at Johns Hopkins University, a published pioneer in the 80's movement for the use of Ritalin, and a really good doctor who was even friends with Rudy (Notre Dame!) so… yeah. OH! And then Billy Mays freakin' died! WTF? Wow, what a rough week, right? Madness. Anyway, hopefully no more celebs will be kicking the proverbial bucket anytime soon... but we'll see, right? Hopefully the next one to go will be a really annoying one that no body needs! xD_

_ANYhow… WHO WANTS TO SEE THAT KARLA ART? And who already has? For those of you who have, what did you think? For those of you who have NOT... well... You know you wanna! The resolution is awesome in size… it's two thousand by two thousand. Go check it out or email me directly and I'll mail you the Jpeg! Sleeping beauty! DA and FA, by WhitMaverick (No "E" in "whit". His name is Peter Nguyen) and you'll really enjoy it!_

_-Kit_


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: _Lord have mercy, what a WEEKEND I've had! Let me just TELL you about my weekend – WOW!_

_A;lsdkfj First I went to AnthroCon. There were about 3800 registered people. I took the real Dawn and she really liked it. Some of you may have seen her – I made her registration badge say, "CON VIRGIN" lol. If her badge didn't get her any attention, her double-D's certainly did. Lol_

_Anyhow, I come back from Pittsburgh only to find out that I don't have a job. Talk about TEH SUX! In fact, just read my fan-fiction bio page for the details, how about that? xD_

* * *

Chapter -26-  
_The Next Morning…  
4:40am_

**Conner looked up from the screen of his phone.** "The light just went out?"

"Yeah," replied Dawn in a soft tone. "What are you looking at on yer phone?" She squirmed in the driver seat of the stolen car then shifted her weight to get comfortable. "And why are we dropping this car off in front of a church when we're done? What does that do to help us?"

"It's better than leaving it anywhere else. And, just so you know, I'm looking up information on the driving exam on a French website. I'm old enough to drive… I wanna get my permit when all of this blows over." He stuffed his phone into his pocket then leaned forward over the dashboard, gazing up at the window on the second floor. "Yeah, it's out. They went to bed – I bet they're pissed that I didn't turn up dead like they'd expected." He grinned at her and said, "Maybe when I show you just how awesome this heist is going to be, you'll want to date me when it's over."

She changed her tone. "Don't get upset, Conner… Karla kissed me."

Silence. The raccoon boy eased back into his seat and shrugged gently. "That was out of the blue - had it on your mind, huh? Look... Dawn, you're single; you're allowed to do anything you want. I… I'm not judging you if that's what you're so worried about. Hopefully it's not; I wouldn't want you to think I'm the judgmental type – I'm not."

She lifted her paws, gesturing for him to save his words. "It wasn't nearly as good as when I last kissed you. I'm so worried about losing you _again_ that I have gone out of my way to stay away from you lately. But with what Karla and I just did the other night…" Dawn took on a nervousness to her tone and rushed through the next awkwardly-worded sentence as if she were forcing the issue. "I had that on my shoulders and didn't want to get closer to you without making sure that it wouldn't be a secret that would hurt a relationship in the near future… so…"

"So you told me." He nodded then turned to her and lifted a paw, touching the side of her face. "I don't care if it's a phase, a misunderstanding or if it's just who you are… so what, you kissed a girl. Big freakin' deal. It happens. I kissed a girl once and nobody cared except for me. I'm totally fine with that. I just want you to be happy because I genuinely care about you. I'm genuinely attracted to you. I have feelings for you. And that girl I kissed… it was you and I _liked it_. That's the reason I want to do it again. And again… and again if I'm lucky."

She lowered her gaze to the steering wheel, smiling inwardly. "I appreciate that. I guess I'm sitting here going through what will happen if you succeed. And once you kiss me, I have a feeling it's going to penetrate the armor I built to protect myself from what might happen if you were …taken away from me again, y'know?"

"I understand." He closed his paw around her collar and drew her close. Their noses nearly touched. His lips were a mere inch from hers. Her breath caught and she half expected him to go all the way. She froze, swallowed and gazed up into his eyes. A grin tugged at the corners of his muzzle as their eyes met. "I just wanted to give you something to think about… something to, ah, jog your memory. Y'know why? Because I'm going to walk out of there unscathed. Then you _know_ what happens next. But there's no use rushing into that right now… I've got to earn it first. After all, so far as I'm concerned, you're worth the wait." He leaned back then opened the passenger side door. "I'll see you soon…" He lifted a paw to the side of his face, making a gesture that resembled a telephone receiver. "Call me, babe." He grinned and snagged his father's cane from the backseat then crossed the street.

Conner broke into a hard sprint then bent his knees and launched himself upwards. He bound off of a dumpster's plastic lid then redirected his momentum. Several feet into the air, he latched onto a drainage pipe and crawled up the side of the building. He put his feet against the piping then inched upwards – rinse, dry and repeat. At the top of the pipe he edged himself over the top and onto the roof. His phone rang. The teen lifted his finger, touching the button on the receiver half-lodged within his ear. "God it's not nearly as easy as it used to be."

"You were lying motionless for three years," she reminded him. "I'm impressed that you're able to scale a wall again after such a short time. It's only been, what… a month or so?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "I used to do it with my arms alone. That was hard but now it's impossible. Okay. I'm up here and I've found the vent you mentioned would be here. How does it connect?"

"The floor plans at the archive said it's a duct system. One story down it goes into an inverted 'Y' shape. You'll want to break to the right and head down to the next story. You'll get out in a hallway, take the elevator to the second floor then climb _back_ into the vent on the wall. You'll emerge in their bedroom, go through the vent register and find the stone thing. Do you have my goggles?"

"Yeah, they're heavier than I remember," he murmured from where he lay on the roof. Conner fished it out of his knapsack, strapped to his back. He put the goggles onto his head and activated them. The familiar phosphorescent green glow illuminated the night sky clearly. "These things are just… awesome."

"Well don't dawdle, the battery only has about half-an-hour worth of charge right now. Even at full charge, it doesn't go much more beyond that. Make your way into the vent."

Conner unfastened the vent and began to descend into the ductwork slowly. He whispered over the Bluetooth headset. "Can I tell you a little secret, too?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Conner pressed his paws outward against the duct siding and let gravity slowly drag him down one story. "I think it's really freakin' hot that you two kissed. I didn't want to say that in the car because I didn't want you to glare at me or smack me… but I think it's totally awesome."

"I don't… I enjoyed it at the time but now I feel stupid for having done it. We're supposed to be professionals and now I'm talking about making out with my whole team – drama is not something we need right now. Besides, like you said before, Karla is married."

"Like you reminded me," he returned, "Karla is separated."

"Still," she trailed off. "Your split is coming up. Remember, you're going to the right, down to the next story then out through the vent. It's a return-air register so expect a draft as you get closer to the metal cover."

"No problem. I look forward to getting out of here with this other piece."

"I bet you do," said Dawn with a snort. "By the way, what are we doing with this Fire Stone thing… we won't need it and we don't want to go taking it _to_ Moreau's place… that would be stupid, just in case we get killed… then he'd have all the pieces."

"I'll personally put it into my family's vault. He'll _never_ find it." Conner placed his feet on the top of the split then asked, "Which right? If I'm facing west or east?"

"Face East. If you're facing east, it'll be the vent on your right."

Conner carefully eased down the correct side of the split then used the padded palms of his gloved paws to help slow his descent to the next story. He kicked his body forward, catching the bottom of the register with his feet. It came upwards and he spilled through it. The boy dropped to the ground in a crouch and the vent cover landed in his paws, held by either side of the metallic square. "Nice… I don't think I could have done that twice in a row."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, I just impressed myself by being graceful." He stood up and replaced the vent on the wall. "The bottom slats are a little bent but… you can hardly notice it in the dark." He turned about. "Seeing everything in green is really weird," he added, reaching for an elevator call button.

"Conner, wait… the security camera in the elevator – I can see a guy in it. It's grainy, but he has a gun showing in a holster under his arm. Jesus, it's the guy from the casino – not Boris, the other guy."

"There's an _other guy_?"

"The body guard guy," she said, having seen the man's face in the past, when she helped Conner break into the casino. "God damn, he's cracking his knuckles. I doubt he knows you're there. Get ready, the elevator is stopping on your floor."

"Why can't it just go by my floor? I swear…"

Dawn's tone darkened. "You pressed the 'call' button, remember dumbass?"

"Yeah, I remember, I remember." Conner put his back up against the wall, adjacent to the elevator doors. "Okay, stand by." He proceeded to hum the James Bond theme song just barely loud enough for Dawn to hear it over the phone. The doors opened.

Conner continued the humming. He thrust his cane down into the ground then vaulted around the corner, feet first, into the elevator. The smoke screen trick emanated from the cane, an ability that he'd forgotten about up until now. His feet connected with the man's torso, knocking him back against the railing on the back wall. It knocked the air out of the man. He dropped to his knees but went for his gun.

Conner, from a crouched position, lifted his head, catching the man's jaw with the backside of his skull. The connection was enough to warrant a groan from the man on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut and it began to ascend the shaft. The man kicked his legs out, throwing the frail seventeen year old up against the button panel. He dropped to his rump with a grunt. "Ow, my freakin' tailbone." The elevator came to a stop. The "Emergency Stop" button was illuminated. He thrusted the cane outward, using the arched backside of the hook to strike the man in his neck. The force wasn't enough to break his trachea but _was_ enough to piss the man off.

He grabbed Conner's cane and thrust it back. The bottom struck the boy in his shoulder, slamming him back against the wall while Dawn watched on, helplessly, over the security camera. He could hear her getting excited and panicking over the earpiece clipped within his ear. The cane released the last of its smoke screen.

"Conner, touch the button on your goggles, opposite of the power switch! Hit it _three times_!" He reached up and hit the button three times and the goggle display changed to thermal. He could see through the smoke and kicked his leg upwards, catching the man in the face from where they both sat on the floor, across from one another.

Conner got up onto his knees then jabbed his paws outwards, striking the man in his torso, just beneath his ribcage. The raccoon forced his paws upwards, curled his fingers, just beneath the bottom ribs, then pulled with all of his might. A sickening pop, so loud that Dawn heard it over the phone, filled the air. Conner fell back onto his rump then waved his paw at the smoke in the air. He fumbled quickly through the settings on the goggles until everything became clear.

Conner balled his paws into fists and swung left then right, hitting the man in his face. The lumbering man stood up slowly. The teen panted, backing up against the closed elevator doors. "Jesus – two black eyes and a dislocated ribcage… and you're _still_ getting up? Are you _serious_?" He thrust the cane outwards, striking the man in the crotch.

The canine yelped but still managed to reach forward, catching Conner by his neck. He lifted the raccoon straight up until his furry gray head slammed into the security camera dome mounted in the top. The dome cracked but the camera continued to function normally. Conner was dropped onto his hip at the man's feet. He then kicked at the dog's knee.

The towering tall man crumbled but dropped forward, burying his other knee into Conner's gut. The teen grunted but managed to reach his cane up, taking by either side and pulling the man's head down by the neck with it. The man resisted. Cooper quickly withdrew the cane, causing the man's head to jerk back rather suddenly. Conner then twirled the cane about and used the end to smack the man just beneath his forehead, between his eyes. Another loud snapping sound caused the boy's ears to flicker.

The man reached for his face, cupping the spot between his eyes with a loud moan of pain. Conner then drew his paw back, palm facing outwards and fingers curled in. Dawn's voice called out into his ear. "Don't you _dare_! If you hit his nose like that, you'll _kill_ him, Conner! We don't need to be part of a homicide!"

Conner thrust his paw down, catching the man in his chest, once again knocking the air out of him. He took the man's gun, dropped the magazine onto the floor then thrust the slide back, ejecting the last round. He then turned the gun about and released the slide, catching the man's nose in the ejection port. He attempted to cry out in agony but had no breath with which to shout.

Finally, Conner stood up, watching as he panicked in an attempt to get the gun from his nose. The raccoon lifted his cane then brought it back down on the man's head. The large, broad-shouldered dog slumped to the ground. The gun fell to the carpeted floor. A few seconds later, his body relaxed enough to begin slow, deep breathing.

The teen muttered a string of French curse words beneath his breath that Dawn couldn't understand. He cleared his throat, sighed then turned about, touching the large '2' on the control panel. The elevator began to ascend once more. It stopped on the sixth floor. Conner pushed the man out of the elevator, stuffed him behind a massive indoor potted plant then slipped back into the elevator and took it down to the second floor.

The doors opened and a disheveled Conner Cooper stepped off. "That guy was a freakin' brick wall," he groused to Dawn. "What a pain in the ass," he added. "Okay… I'm on two… I was supposed to get into the vent and go through and into their room… but there is a sign up from the property management. It says that the ductwork on this floor is under repair. Hold tight." Conner touched the side of the goggles until he could see through the wall. "Damn… there's no duct beneath the wall, right now. What's plan B?"

"Have Karla teleport the stupid thing… it's a shame she's already left the country." Both raccoons sighed in unison. After a moment, Dawn said, "Frontal attack. Pick the lock on the door, walk in there… smack the crap out of anyone that moves… take the stone, get their guns and leave. Boris turned out to be more involved than we initially expected… if you can get him alone… see if you can't find out what the hell he's doing here."

"It's obvious… he's coming for the cane. He's obviously working for Moreau. There's no little plot twists or secret surprises, here. The guy is another paid goon. No use looking for something deeper than that… I'm not going to kill him, either. I want him to tell Moreau that a storm is coming out to sea and it's not going to be pretty."

"But then we lose our stealth advantage."

The raccoon gritted his teeth in defeat. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Either steal it and disappear without being seen… which may or may not happen if the rest of his coterie happen to be awake… or… you can always …uh, well… you can always break his fingers and his jaw, then he can't tell anyone anything."

Cooper deadpanned. "F – that. I'll throw his tail out the window, first." With a cracking of his knuckles, Conner headed for the door. He withdrew his cane again, gave it a twirl then reached for the hotel room doorknob. He gritted his teeth and the electronic card-key slot mechanism failed. The knob opened with ease, although a wisp of steam emanated from the nine-volt battery inside the box on the door.

"Conner? There was a lot of crackling and distortion for a second, there… everything okay?"

He smirked as he flung the door open. "Everything is _just fine_. Stand by." He walked in like Bogart, casual and as though he belonged there. Several men stood up from their seats and Boris looked up from his spot in front of a television. The lights in the room were all out. Conner touched the side of the electronic goggles. The fluttering distortion in the lenses finally cleared. He flipped over to night vision then cleared his throat. "Where the hell is my rock?"

"You! You're the kid who put a gun to my head in my car!" Boris stood up and pointed at Conner. "Kill the little prick!" His men all withdrew pistols from their clothing. Each one of them attached a silencer as if having rehearsed some sort of choreography.

Quick to talk his way out of the situation, Conner lifted his cane and shouted, "FINE, then you'll NEVER find the staff you were looking for!"

"Wait!" Boris began to walk towards Conner slowly. "Okay, kid… you've got my attention. But my patience… you don't have that." The Russian lynx folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Last I heard from you, if I recall correctly, you were looking for someone. Did you find them?"

"Tyrell Antoine Jones; yes he was a big help. I was looking for an Interpol Inspector." He gritted his teeth so as not to show them any weakness or emotion. "She's dead now so far as I know. If you don't want to end up like her then I suggest that we have a little chat about your friend Alphonse."

Dawn's voice chimed in his ear. "Don't go too far, too fast, Conner! Bringing up Moreau can be dangerous at this point… And Jesus, I thought you said your mother might still be alive?"

Conner didn't answer her. Instead, he told Boris, "Look, kitty, I had a gun to your head and I let you live. I'm not asking for special favors and I'm not looking for anyone other than the guy who is looking for that staff. He's got something of mine and I don't like how he's not come out of hiding in quite some time."

The lynx narrowed his gaze. "Do you think this is some sort of game, kid? My boys have guns trained on your head. These four men will kill you without so much as flinching. What do you know of that man, anyhow, and where is my staff?"

"I have it at my place. Whoever the sniper is… he missed. I hope all your gunmen are better qualified than that guy."

"You're liking this, aren't you?" Boris unfolded his arms and began to pace in front of Cooper. "You little twerp, you like feeling as though you have power and importance. Do you think I am stupid?" He pivoted on his heel and turned directly towards Conner. "You sniveling little whelp, your precious Interpol agent isn't dead, she's just indisposed at the moment. Hostages are useful as bargaining chips. I know she's your mother, kid. I know you're angry that The Fonz has her and I know you have that staff. One of us will still have it in his possession at the end of this conversation… The other one will be dead."

"We don't have to go down that route," said Conner. "I have no problems letting you live again." He kept his composure, regardless of the excitement that coursed through his body at hearing Boris' words about his mother. Several of the gunners snickered at the boy's daring words.

The lynx turned and began to walk away, heading back towards the television. "Remember how I said I have a short span of patience? It's about to run out."

"I'm here for the Fire Stone – you stole it from me back in India. I'll be taking what's mine and leaving without any trouble, if you'd like to play this smart."

Dawn groaned over the headset. "I hope you have something to back yourself up in there. You're talking a good game but you surely don't have someone like Karla to back you up, right now."

Conner cleared his throat loudly and said, "Where is it and I'll let you live. Ten seconds."

"Give me my staff or you'll die… _five seconds_."

"You'll have to _force_ that information out of me… Stop wasting our time. We're both busy gentlemen and time is money. Where is my stone, Boris?"

The lynx turned about and half-heartedly waved a paw. "Beat it out of this kid, boys."

All four men approached Conner, guns raised. Cooper cleared his throat. "You are making a serious mistake, Boris."

"Kid… after we beat it out of you, I'll make sure I put in a word to Fonzie. That Interpol cop? I'll make sure he kills her off – he has plenty of other hostages to use. She was annoying to me and now _you're_ annoying me _about_ her. She needs to die because you couldn't keep your yap shut. Now give me my goddamned staff. Boys, rip him apart until he begs to tell us what we want to know. And keep it down so we don't wake up the other hotel patrons… no need bringing attention to ourselves."

Conner gritted his teeth and tensed up from the threat. He clinched the shaft of his cane so tightly that his knuckles almost seemed to bulge. He turned to head towards Boris just as one of the men drew back his fist. The first punch caught Conner in the side of his head. The young raccoon shouted at the top of his lungs in rage.

The television flickered violently then darkened. A thick, vibrant stream of energy lanced from out of the power supply. The intensely powerful alternating current arced through the air and struck Conner's cane. His fur stood on end and his hair lifted. His eyes glowed and the cane illuminated the room in a soft yellow lightning.

Teeth gritted, he waved a paw at the nearest man. A brilliant flash of lightning burst from his fingertips and struck the man who had just thrown the punch. Sixteen hundred watts came from Conner's body – all that could be given from the wall jack at once… It connected with the man, coursing through his body in an instant. The gun in the man's hand began to glow until all the bullets went off at once, causing the man's paw to burst in a splatter of gooey crimson. He cried out in agony.

Another guard grabbed Conner by the next but all the electricity surging through the raccoon's body was temporarily forced into the attacker's paw. The discharge of electricity caused the man's body to be thrown clear across the room. His body curled up into a fetal position, disappearing through the drywall and into the hotel bathroom.

Conner whirled about, swinging his cane. It connected with the third man. The electrostatic transference of energy caused the man's body to be thrown clear across the room, flipping over the sofa. The cane's follow-through swing caught the fourth man's gun. Upon contact, the weapon became incredibly hot, forcing the man to drop it.

Conner turned about, took the man by his throat then the raccoon doubled over, hurling the man into one of the other dazed mercenaries. Boris turned about, watching in shock as Conner dispatched all four of his guards.

Conner's narrowed slits seemed to look straight through the man. "That stone is in this room. I'll find it myself – you're no longer of any use to me… so there's no point in you living."

"Wait!" Boris cleared his throat, now seeking to buy himself precious minutes to live. The feline watched in shock as the teenage boy turned about and easily dispatched one of the armed men with his cane.

The raccoon snagged the man by his throat in the hook then shifted his weight, flipping the first goon into the second and abruptly electrocuting both. It left two men, one without a paw and the other cradling his burned palm, unable to pick up his orange-glowing weapon.

Boris began to breathe quickly from fear. "You'll never make it passed Crusher, kid. Crusher will rip you apart and eat you alive." He backed away slowly.

"Where's my stone," asked Conner in a calm voice. "I want it." A gun cocked from his left. He reached to the left and placed his paw atop a weapon being pointed at his hip. His fingertips closed around the slide of a Glock pistol, forcing it down. Within seconds the barrel melted. A cooked round fired but struck the floor. Again another round struck the floor even with the bent barrel. A third round cooked off and fired from the heat put into the frame. Conner kept his gaze on Boris. "I'm told I have one hell of a temper… And I'm seriously about to lose it."

"Look man," said the lynx in a professional sounding tone. "Was the information I gave you accurate before?"

"It was."

"And you found yer mother, right, kid?"

"…Yes."

Boris shrugged. "Then I've done nothing to earn your distrust. I'm here doing a job. My job is to get that staff and that stone and give it to M. I'm just doing a job."

"Yeah?" Cooper smirked. "_My_ job is to take that stone, that staff and everything that Doctor M. has and what I do from that point on is nobody's business but mine. My job may very well lead to me killing you if you're in my way. So where do we go from here – you tell me."

"Are there any other options?" Boris folded his arms, shifted his weight and narrowed his gaze.

"I pay you to look the other way. You hand me the stone, leave the country, don't return and, when you've done all that, you can also turn a blind eye to whatever you read in the paper about the Atlantic Ocean in a few days."

"You don't have enough to buy my loyalty."

Soft feminine laughter filled Cooper's ear from Dawn, who was still listening in on the conversation from his earpiece. The raccoon shook his head slowly. "I have enough money to make you _volunteer_ to walk on all fours whenever you're in my presence for the _rest_ of your _life_."

Boris went silent. The lynx began a slow pace across the carpet. "That's a dilemma. First of all, I'd need to see proof of this – I'd want that money in cash and in a short amount of time. We _could_ arrange a buy and I could take that money and go underground for a while… My only stipulation is that the purchase price is for the stone and to walk away… not to give out his contact information; if you want to find him, you'll have to do that research yourself, without my help. It's up to you, kiddo."

"You still think I'm bluffing so you're not taking me seriously. My other option is that I kill you and your men right now. I've never taken the lives of a group of people but I'm not against it if I'm doing so in defense… self preservation goes a long way and I already showed you that I'm temperamental. So what's it going to be?"

"One billion dollars." He drew a nice blazer from a hook and pulled it on then adjusted the lay of the material over himself.

Conner calmly turned to the man who recently held the Glock and asked, "What's _your_ price?"

Boris quirked a brow. "He's under _my_ payroll. Don't give him _anything_."

"Hey!" shouted the man still favoring his burnt right paw.

Without blinking an eye, Boris lifted a previously hidden weapon and pulled the trigger. Conner quickly brought his paws to his ears, groaning from the pain of the loud blast. When the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear Boris speaking. "…Everyone in the hotel let alone anyone in the vicinity. We should leave." He tossed the one-shot pistol on the fallen man's chest that now lay on the floor bleeding from a fatal headshot.

Conner leered at the dead man and swallowed in silence. Boris snapped his fingers to get the raccoon's attention then continued to talk. "I only had one round – I could have used it on you while you were distracted. As you can see, I shot him to simplify things – just the way I like it; no complications and no drama. Listen to me, boy – I am a businessman and I get things done. If someone's life gets between my business and me they die. In the end, I come out on top every single time."

"You're disgusting. A billion dollars won't buy you out of the hole you're digging for yourself."

"I'll buy my way out of any holes I get into. Don't worry yourself with that. Lead the way out of here. If you don't follow through, you'll be joining Simon Lancaster, here, on the floor." He offered a swift kick while stepping over the man's dead body then said, "There's nothing magical about a hole – money can solve anything if applied the right way."

"You're wrong," said Conner. "I have it and it doesn't fix _my_ problems. The hole, believe it or not, _is_ magical in a sense. You can spend your entire life climbing up from a hole. When you finally get to the top, one wrong move and you'd be all the way back at the bottom. Don't fall into that sort of thing."

"Shut up kid – this is an opportunity for me. I'm here for financial benefit. I'm about to be either a billion bucks richer or you're about to discover the cure for death – a bullet in between your eyes."

"You're a real class act," murmured the raccoon. "What's to say I don't rip your head off and take that stone from you." Conner brazenly turned, keeping his back to the man, knowing his greed would keep him from rushing into making any sudden moves. "It's on you right now, after all. I saw it when you were in your jeep, earlier, and I saw it when I walked in through the door."

"Perceptive."

"Yeah, thanks." Conner opened the door for him then continued out of the hotel.

He could hear Dawn speaking into his ear. "What are you _doing_? This wasn't the plan. You're a thief not an auctioneer. Are you crazy?" To her words, Conner did not respond.

Once outside of the hotel, Conner turned to the right, walked down the block and into an alley. "It's not far. We're parked out back, behind the hotel." He purposely stopped walking in the dark, causing Boris to bump into him from behind. A dense object could be felt against his left hip. Conner began walking again. At the edge of the alley he said, "I thought you were out of bullets and guns… not very fair, keeping it hidden beneath your dress jacket."

"So much for your perceptive abilities, kid." Boris smirked. "Guess the tables have turned since last we saw one another. Why'd you stop, anyway? You wanted to see if I had a gun, huh? Clever kid."

"I stopped to listen," Conner replied. "If someone else is following us, I'll hear their footsteps when I stop. I only heard one other set of footfalls – yours – so we're safe. You just _happened_ to jam the barrel of your other gun into me when you collided… Don't be so paranoid."

"Far from paranoid, kid."

Conner smiled to himself, keeping Boris behind. He lowered his eyes to his paw and the red stone hidden within his fist. He stealthily deposited the stone, stolen during the collision in the alley, and cleared his throat to create a distraction while putting it into a concealed shirt pocket. "My mistake, Boris. I think you actually _want_ to shoot me and don't want any money at all."

"If that were the case you'd be bleeding right now. I want some effing money, chump. I understand the Cooper family has a substantial amount of loot hidden away. I doubt it's anywhere near a billion… but whatever I get will be more than I already have… and if it's less than what you promised, I shoot you. Then I become rich AND you become dead. So you better start sweating bullets now, because you'll be riddled with them soon."

"A billion dollars is chump change, Boris. My family doesn't even _know_ how much money they have. The last family member to be interested in math enough to actually inventory it… lived in the late eighteen hundreds, sometime after Tennessee Kid Cooper. He counted it again just before the First World War. It took a _long_ time. With all that's been added to it since then, not to mention inflation, I'm willing to wager that his last estimate is now a little …off."

"Which was…?"

"Two and a third septillion in American currency – he lived in Chicago, stealing from mobsters who made their money illegally."

"Septillion, huh? Two at that… Let's see; if memory serves me right, it goes… Trillion, then Quadrillion, then quintillion, then sextillion, _then_ septillion." Then, for your family to have _two_ septillion is quite unbelievable."

"It includes liquidate-able assets, like …Oh, I don't know… jewelry, old technology that sits in a museum inside the Kane vault… all sorts of crap. Paintings, murals, tapestries, whatever – you name it."

"If that's the case, I want more than a billion dollars, kid."

"Dude, how are you going to even transport a _billion_ in gold coins? It's going to be rather difficult to get that money off the island in the middle of the South Pacific. Micronesia is a big place and you'll need a big boat that can _still_ stay below the radar. Good luck – that's your problem, though… not mine."

Boris jabbed the gun against Conner's shoulder. "Guess you'll be bribing people to look the other way, won't you?"

Conner gritted his teeth. "Poke me again with that gun. We'll be amending this oral agreement _real_ fast."

Boris, feeling challenged, jammed the gun into Conner's back forcefully, keeping it pressed against the raccoon's body. Cooper gritted his teeth, tensed his body, clinched his paws into fists and growled hotly. His body's temperature began to escalate.

"You send a charge into my gun and it'll cook off a round… and you'll have a bullet in your body. You don't want to do that, now do you?"

Conner quickly jerked his cane down, snagging Boris' leg with the hooked end. Intense electricity was forced into the man's lower body, causing his legs to buckle and his body to lock up tightly. He dropped to the ground, temporarily stunned. The raccoon pivoted about, put the cane against the man's throat and withdrew the stone with his other paw. "See this? I've had it since you bumped into me a moment ago. This is the part where we go our separate ways. This is also the part where the good Doctor terminates you for screwing up, buddy." He drew his cane back and swung it like a golf club, striking Boris in the forehead.

He placed a finger to his ear and said, "He's down, Dawn. Where do you want to meet?" No reply. "Dawn?" Cooper withdrew his phone and frowned. The screen was blank. He checked his earpiece and it appeared to have a dead battery. The small LED indicator wouldn't even illuminate. "Crap…" He turned about and hurried out of the alley.

The raccoon hurried around the corner, across the street and into the next alley. Rather suddenly he felt pain in his head. All at once everything went dark…

* * *

**"…You okay?"** The voice was fading in and out. "Are you okay? Answer me," it said, fading out once more. "Conner, wake up!" He groaned in reply but his head hurt too much to open his eyes just yet.

"I'm… I'm here – what happened?"

Her voice was soft but full of concern. "You were struck in the forehead by a wooden baseball bat. You're lucky you have such a hard head – there's no sign of any major trauma and, aside from a knot on your forehead, you should be just fine."

He gritted his teeth in pain and rubbed his right temple. "Did they steal…?" He brought his other paw to his chest then sighed in relief, feeling the lump in his shirt. "Who was it?" He tried opening his eyes but they were swollen shut. "I feel like crap."

"You _look_ like crap," said Dawn. "We even missed our flight out of town because you wouldn't wake up. I thought about taking you to a hospital but you let that guy live… so he's probably hunting for you right now. What happened to your phone? The battery is worthless in both the phone and your headset."

"I… remember how I can make the cane glow?"

"Yeah." Her paw felt soft against his cheek. He nuzzled into the touch, listening to her breathing for a moment.

Conner swallowed then opened only his right eye. "I did that a few times… new stuff happened – I tried it again on Boris and after that, I couldn't hear you in my ear anymore. I think I fried my stuff. How are your goggles? Did they get broken when I was hit? Did I fry them?"

"The attack was to your face… the goggles were on your head but they apparently fell downwards – the strap was wrapped around your neck. They were scuffed up, but they're fine. And no, the battery cell is different from the battery used by your cell and your earpiece. Oddly, it's fully charged after your little show. Aren't you going to ask how you wound up with me instead of in one of a closet or something?"

Conner pried open his swollen left eye. "You rescued me?"

"Yeah – I ran in there without so much as thinking things through… it was _stupid_ of me. But… everything Karla has taught me during those combat training sessions… well… it paid off. I don't really have any nice nails left… I've got to buy a few more… And I jammed my left thumb because I accidentally tucked it into my palm when throwing a punch… but," she trailed off then chuckled. "Damn. You should have seen me, Conner… You'd have been proud."

"How many?"

"Four – you did a lot of the work."

"I…did?" He sat up with another groan and looked around the dark setting. "Where are we?"

"Boris' hotel room. I got the key off of him – he was out cold and, last I checked, he was still in that alley, laid out good… arms all the way out, legs all the way apart, tongue hanging out… it was awesome. Anyhow, we're in his room. We should go, though… Anyhow, when you were unconscious, one of them grabbed you by the throat and you tensed up. Your blood pressure spiked or _…something_. Either way, you shocked everyone in that alley. Then I knocked out three of them. By then, the fourth one had come around and so I fought him. He beat the hell out of me but in the end, he got sloppy."

Conner groaned again, rubbing at his head. He was in serious pain with an intense headache and the inability to blink very well. "He messed up?"

"He picked me up and threw me. I landed right besides you. I picked up your cane then swung it hard and got him right in the crotch. After that, I tore him apart and hit him with your cane a few more times. Finally, the damn thing was too hot to handle, so I wedged it into your belt and dragged you, by your arms, back to the hotel. When we got back here, there were cops all over. I let them wrap up their investigation then took you into the room, which is still corded off…"

"Those kinds of investigations take _hours_, especially involving the dead since Boris shot one of his own men…"

"Conner, all that stuff happened _yesterday_. You were out for almost twenty-four hours. I've been looking up crap on the net to make sure you weren't in a coma… but you were responsive and, at one point, you even started talking in your sleep so…"

He eased up onto his elbow at first then eased up to a sitting position. They were in bed together. He immediately blushed and reached his paw down, further, beyond the hem of his shirt. He wore boxers but his pants were missing. "What happened to my shoes and all that stuff?"

"Your pants are draped over a chair. There's no use in worrying about them… I wanted you comfortable. Here, see for yourself." She took his paw and drew it over to her leg. No pants, just underwear. Again his face flushed, bringing fresh pain to the swelling around his left eye and the knot on his forehead. "See, Conner? Comfortable." She paused then sighed – the tone of her voice changed. "The truth is, I had to launder your pants."

"I…uh. Why?"

"You were unconscious for a whole day… you figure it out. It's understandable - you were fully out cold for a full day. There are coin-operated machines down the hall."

"That's really embarrassing."

"Don't let it bother you. In real life, nothing happens perfectly. Besides, men are cute when they're vulnerable."

He rubbed at his forehead then, in a softer, more humbled voice, asked, "How do you mean?"

"In a story book or in a movie name one thing that's _always_ perfect in a scene?"

He paused then announced, "Sex scenes."

She offered a dull glare. "Okay, fair enough… and in _real life_, the guy and girl are engaged in foreplay and if the girl doesn't know what she's doing… the guy will probably wince and say, "Careful, watch the teeth down there…ow!" That stuff doesn't happen in a novel. Well… you were out and I took care of you. Don't be embarrassed when reality happens to us. Needless to say, no big."

Conner fidgeted in silence. After a moment or so, he murmured the word, "Cool." Finally, he added, "Thank you – I appreciate it. I'm sorry."

She shrugged and patted his shoulder. "It's fine. You'd do the same for me. We're cool. You've been out for a day after breaking a hard sweat... ya might want to get a shower or whatever."

"You want to join?"

Dawn laughed softly. "Slow your roll. You got away with the stone but I only promised you a kiss. Go get cleaned up – the hot water will help your aching… everything. Muscles, joints, face, whatever… just go take a shower. I'll wait here for you."

"God. I still feel embarrassed. Also, I'll need a new phone, we've got to get tickets back to America and …just…"

"It's all taken care of," she told him. "Just go get cleaned up. We're going to stay one more night and leave in the morning. And stop feeling so embarrassed."

"Still…"

"Oh for heaven sake." She gave him a slight shove. "Go shower. Your fur needs it. Hurry up. There's a hotel-branded bathrobe in there, waiting for you. You've had that shirt on way too long. I'll put it in with the next load then when we leave in the morning, everything will smell fresh."

"Th-thanks." He slid out of bed and dizzily wandered over to the bathroom attached to the hotel bedroom. He left the door wide open, walked to the stand-up shower stall, opened the clear glass door and flipped on the faucet. He disrobed quickly and slinked into the booth, shutting the hinged glass section behind himself.

Dawn lay on the bed, watching him with a shake of her head. "You feel comfortable enough to shower right in front of me… but the thought of me taking care of you while you were unconscious actually bothers you? Why?"

"I feel comfortable around you," he called to her over the water. "But I don't like the thought of you having to take care of me like a baby or something."

"It had to be done. Stop worrying about it. I won't tell anyone – your manhood is salvaged."

Conner grumbled. "It's not that I'm embarrassed about feeling vulnerable or whatever… You like seeing that side of me anyhow as I recall. I just don't like the thought of having to inconvenience you. Also, I don't like the fact that I…"

"You were knocked out for a whole DAY! In _real life_, people use the bathroom, brush their teeth, eat, breathe, scratch an itch, pick their nose; they obsess over things, they feel shame and they _sometimes_ even feel appreciation when someone _helps_ them!"

Conner winced. "You're right, you're right… I'm sorry – I'm wallowing in my own shame, here, huh? I really _do_ appreciate that you took care of me. I'm _very_ thankful that I can count on you and that I had you there to help me. Just one more reason why I still have feelings for you. I mean… my coma may've lasted three years for everyone else but… for me I felt like I woke up the next morning… and after what feels like knowing you for like… a solid two months or more… I feel as though I'm starting to fall in love with you. It's not rushed for me… I hope that you don't feel awkward or whatever…"

Dawn slid off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom. She placed a paw on the glass, looking into his eyes. Twice, his own amber gaze dropped to look at her smoothly furred legs and lacey panties. Once his eyes lifted back to hers, she announced, "I'm struggling with my emotions. I went three years with other mates… and recently I fooled around with a teammate… but deep down, I still have feelings reserved only for you. You're special to me and I adore you. I've now see your temperamental side, your angry side and your most vulnerable-of-all side. And after all of the things that have happened lately… you still look at me with longing and a sort of tenderness I can't even… it's just… it's all really sweet. I'm not rushing back into dating you – I need to make sure you aren't going to die first… but… I do look forward to kissing you again. You've earned it after all."

Conner opened the glass panel again. There he stood in the shower without a reply. Finally, he did something unexpected, even to himself. He reached forward, took her by the wrists and pulled her into the shower. He pressed his lips against hers. At first she resisted in order to stay dry but, in the end, she gave in and threw her arms around his neck.

The teenage boy's lips meshed against her soft warm lips and in return she slanted her mouth against his. They kissed with a shared passion. She cupped either side of his muzzle and he placed his paws upon her hips. She eased her tongue forward until it brushed against his. Excited, the boy returned the gesture – his tongue swirled against hers and the rest of the world melted away for the moment. Hot water ran down their faces and matted their hair down. Neither cared. They embraced one another and continued the intensely delicious joining with the sensuality of an intimate kiss, both of which were soaked to the bone.

Her paws began to roam over his chest, exploring his body. His fingers moved over her blouse, unbuttoning it. He helped draw the shirt from her then dropped it in the corner with a loud 'shlop' sound. He eased his paws around her and fumbled with her bra working the first two clasps undone only to struggle with the last one. Without breaking the kiss, Dawn reached back and thumbed the last one open for him with ease. She then shrugged it from her arms and dropped it to the bottom of the shower stall. Their bodies were now soapy from the fur cleanser solution he had lathered in, just moments before she'd joined.

Conner then ran his paws over her back, coming to the hem of her underwear. Not yet ready to rush, he brought his paws around to her tummy then upwards. His touch had some sort of effect, causing her to shudder visually from the desire she'd locked away in her chest. She placed her paws back on his chest and shoved him up against the wall, lips still locked.

Now noticeably taller than her after three long years… he pivoted, turning her about until _she_ had her back up against the shower wall. He pressed his torso firmly against hers, took her by the wet cloth hips and suckled on her passion-bruised lips. The firmness with which he kissed her caused her to groan with desire, grinding her body against his. The soapsuds ran down their thighs, washed away by the hot water.

His thumbs hooked into the hem of her waistline. She placed a paw upon his forearm, pushing downwards and he reacted to her guidance by pushing the undergarment down her legs. The wet cloth clung to her knees and she wiggled but they stayed in place. Conner lifted his left foot, placed it between her thighs then lowered his footpaw, pushing her panties down to her ankles. She stepped out of the wet fabric then kicked them away and wrapped her arms around him.

Now lost to desire and passion, he placed his paws beneath her rump and lifted her up against the wall. Her legs lifted, easing about him. The hot-blooded pair continued their blissful kissing and tactile exploration of one another while grinding their forms together. The hot water changed to cold and all at once, both of them scrambled to get out of the shower booth together. They rushed out of the bathroom and collapsed to the carpet side-by-side, half-laughing.

"So much for perfect story-book romance," he said with a semi-disappointed chuckle.

"Yeah… funny how reality is way more harsh than fictional romance. I guess I should put both our shirts and undies back into the wash. And… thank you, Conner. That was a really nice kiss. I enjoyed it. I can't believe we lost it for a second there."

"Well, I _am_ a virgin, still, so…"

She grinned at him, pushing wet hair away from her face. "You sure as hell don't kiss like one."

He rubbed his sore left eye but grinned at her. "Well thanks, I'm glad you liked it as much as I did. I guess we should dry off."

"Yeah… that'd be a good idea. Too bad there is only one bathrobe. I'll need it to take these clothes down to the laundry room… I guess we're sleeping in the buff tonight."

He smiled. "No complaints here." A pause, then, "I sure _wish_ we were in a harlequin romance novel right about now. Heh… I don't know why things keep coming up, creating situations that are less than perfect or romantic."

Dawn grinned, turning her head towards him. Her hair splayed across her face causing her to look rather beautiful. "Maybe we're trapped in some sort of comedy."

"All I know is… I want you." He offered a tired grin then propped himself up on an elbow. "A lot."

A devious little expression tugged at the corner of her muzzle and she moved closer to him, placing a paw upon his chest. "Is that right?" She leaned in closer until her lips gently brushed against his…

* * *

A/N: _At least now I have more time to write, huh? _


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter -27-

_Florida Keys  
July 1__st__ 2029  
13:50pm_

**The windows along the front side of the rental flat** resembled speckled glitter on the ground in front of the building. A tree, skinned of its branches, lay parallel to Riviera Drive and several light fixtures could be seen hanging perpendicular to the ceiling through the missing windows.

Conner secured the shoulder-mounted canvas guitar case, blinking rapidly. "What the hell happened here?"

He and Dawn rushed up the front lawn but the building appeared empty. The grass was wet beneath their feet. Cooper climbed in through the empty window frame then helped Dawn in. They both began calling names. "Stephan!" called Dawn, followed by Conner calling for Karla and Keri. No response.

They walked through the makeshift dojo on the first floor. They left the room and headed up a flight of stairs. At the top, they took a hallway through the second floor. Stephan, Karla and Keri's bedrooms had their windows covered with plywood and tape. The upstairs appeared whole. They came to the kitchen, which was stocked with canned food and essential items in the fridge. The power was on but a quart of milk in the door appeared spoiled despite the date reading 'July 8th'.

Conner shut the door to the fridge and slumped into a chair at the table. "They're probably out at a hardware store. Apparently the power was out for quite some time – it's obvious this was the work of a hurricane. Funny – I didn't hear anything about it in the news."

"They're becoming pretty common place," murmured Dawn.

"Not for long," he replied. He paused and lifted a paw. Dawn grew quiet. Cooper sniffed at the air then stood up just as Karla and Stephan came into the kitchen. Conner smiled in relief. "Some storm you guys got last night, huh?"

Karla frowned. "Where've you two been? We couldn't get you on your cellphone, Conner."

"I fried it," he said with a shrug. "Didn't you try Dawn's phone? Where is Keri?"

"I was about to ask _you_ the same thing," replied the felox. "And Dawn's phone has been going right to voice mail all day yesterday. Anyhow, we've not seen Keri since last night, after the storm began to die down. It was an E-F5 and rolled through most of the keys. It didn't even _touch_ the airport, though. Lucky you – it's like you have a golden horseshoe wedged up your tail or something."

Cooper smirked then folded his arms. "How long was the storm?"

She ran a paw back, brushing out her long blonde hair then frowned with a shake of her head. "It slowed to a crawl once it reached land. Then it slowly strolled through this area. It picked up speed again then rushed up the coast to Miami… the _real_ damage was just north of Daytona. There's just…. A hole. Then it bounced north, along the waterfront areas for a bit, leveled the Georgian Coast and, right now, it's pounding Myrtle Beach. So far they're saying it's caused more deaths in the Carolinas than both Hugo and Andrew combined. I wasn't even alive for _those_ storms."

"So Keri is missing? When, exactly, was the last time you saw her and what was she doing?"

Stephan cut into the conversation. "I saw her twice. Two hours before the storm she was helping to tape the windows up. Then I spoke to her just before the storm died down. Listen, Conner, we've been on the metaphorical pins and needles, here… did you get the artifacts?"

He nodded with smirk and a roll of the eyes. "Of _course_ I got both. That isn't important to me right now – I need to know that my team is alive and well."

The skunk shook his head slowly. "Then I'm sorry to be the barer of bad news as we've not seen Keri."

"Did you guys sleep in this morning?"

"As a matter of fact we did," said Stephan with a nod. "The storm started yesterday morning just before noon. It passed over us around three in the morning, _this morning_. The last time I knew for sure that Keri was among us… was at some point after midnight because she was talking about wanting a hot shower, as we had no power. The next morning, when I awoke, she was no longer with the house."

"This is getting weirder by the minute," Conner groaned. "I'm going to go and check out her room just in case I find anything." He patted Dawn's shoulder then walked out of the kitchen, alone. He could hear their voices speaking in the distance as he headed down the upstairs hallway. At the end, he turned right and opened Keri's bedroom door.

Her bed sheets were a mess. A shoe was lying on its side by the dresser but there was no sign of its partner. He leaned down and gazed beneath the bed but it was clean. Conner rose to one knee and glanced about himself. A knob to the dresser was broken. Her purse was overturned with its accoutrements dumped out in the far corner. He stood up and blinked. Conner approached her bed and picked up a small gray object on her pillow. The cellular phone's LCD display had a crack in it and a stress fracture in the plastic case trailed up along the backside of the battery compartment.

The charger wire lay on the bed not far from the phone. Conner trailed it back to the wall. He ran his fingers along the cord, behind the bed but felt the transformer block dangling against the backside of the mattress, not far from the socket on the wall. He pursed his lips then walked back to her bedroom door. He reached for the knob but found that it was marred with a dry brown smear. The raccoon slung open her door and froze.

The carpet had a wrinkle – something he'd not noticed before. "Guys! We have a problem! Keri is in trouble!"

"What?" Dawn came out of the kitchen and hurried up the hallway. "How can you be sure?"

"Her phone is broken and was ripped out of the wall – charger and all; her belongings were dumped on the floor, a knob was ripped off the front of the dresser; the room is a mess, there's a _wrinkle_ right here in the goddamn carpet!" He stopped over the fabric lump and pointed downward. "What the hell is going on? Stephan?" He then changed his tone, addressing the felox and asked, "Karla, your room is directly across from Keri's room – you didn't _hear_ anything?"

Karla came out of the kitchen followed by the skunk. "I, uh… stayed in Stephan's room last night, which is at the other end of the flat. I didn't hear anything – do you suppose her kidnappers were after her because her face was in the newspaper in regards to stopping the plane hijacking?"

"Christ," Conner muttered. "I don't know!" He balled his paws up in frustration. "This is the _last_ damn thing we need!"

Dawn glanced over her shoulder, first at Karla then at Stephan. She panned her gaze back to Karla and swallowed. "That's really awkward to hear that."

"Dawn…" Karla sighed.

Cooper threw his paws into the air. "Enough!" He sighed loudly then said, "We don't have enough time to worry about all this goddamn furry drama. It weakens the links of our chain, okay people? There's no time or need for jealousy – a member of our circle has quite possibly been abducted if not far worse… we need to get our heads out of our tails and put our defenses up."

"I'm _not_ jealous," said Dawn, cutting her gaze to Conner. "It's just awkward because I didn't know she was so _easy_. I don't need _Mono_ or something like that. Safety issue – awkward. Not good."

The teenage boy brought his paw to his forehead with a low groan of frustration "Karla, Dawn… obviously you two need a minute to talk about this. So step into Karla's bedroom," he said, gesturing across the hall to another door, "Then please join us when you're done doing the girly-drama thing. Stephan and I will start analyzing the evidence in Keri's room – I think I saw dried blood on the doorknob and want to make sure that's what it is before I _really_ start worrying. Go on." He opened the door for them and gestured. They scooted into the room, both looking semi-angry. He then shut the door and motioned for Stephan. "Get a Petri dish and a swab or something… whatever it is you need to analyze this stuff."

Cooper paused, lifted a finger, gestured to Karla's room then added, "And can you at least wait until the ink is dry on her divorce papers?"

Karla's muffled words were heard through the door. "I'm _SEPERATED_. That's not PERMANENT!"

Stephan's gaze narrowed. "I created her. What happened was not intended, nor did we 'finish the deed', or whatever the term is. _She_ stopped the advance saying she didn't want things to move too quickly. Also, it was her husband who asked for the separation. Regardless, she was interested in staying together during this storm because _her_ room has windows, as it is on the front of the building. Keri's room and my room lack windows."

Conner didn't reply, he simply stepped into the bedroom, waited for Stephan to step in, then shut the door halfway and pointed to the knob. The skunk politely dismissed himself and left to retrieve analytical equipment and supplies.

* * *

_Thirty minutes later…_

**The team sat in silence **around the kitchen table. After nearly ten minutes, Conner finally cleared his voice. "Okay, so we _know_ it's her blood. But look on the bright side, fellas, it wasn't very much because there's not a single drop anywhere else in the house. She'll probably walk in the door any minute wondering why we're all sitting here."

Dawn chuckled somewhat nervously. "Yeah, with a CVS bag and a small bandage on her paw or finger or something."

"Exactly." Conner glanced over at the felox and memphit. "What's the deal, guys?"

Stephan shook his head. "She's fairly organized. Also, the scanner showed multi-sample dirt on the floor from the foyer. The dried mud flakes shows that these shoes or boots have tread in at least three different environments."

"But hurricanes can stir up the dirt, right? Not only that but the test isn't finished analyzing yet, right?" Conner's voice was still full of naïve hope.

"Quite so." The table returned to silence.

After several long moments, Karla said, "If she's not back in twenty-four hours, we need to move. We'll pack up everything into one trailer and I'll teleport the trailer by cover of night. That won't be an easy task but… I'll make it happen so that no one can follow us. Anything less means we're all still at risk."

Dawn glanced back at Karla. "You can do an entire trailer?"

"I told you… It's not easy," said the hybrid woman, adding, "But it's not impossible. It's a matter of going small distances at a time and not placing it inside of another object between here and wherever it is we go. Then at the half-way point… we teleport all the stuff from the first trailer into the second trailer… then drive that one away in one direction and the other one in another… it'll be impossible for anyone to follow."

"Complicated plan," said Stephan. "We can simply wait – I'll build a machine at the new location and one here… then we send everything over from source pad to the destination pad… Karla can teleport the machine onto a box truck…. Then teleport it back off the box truck once it's in proximity of the new home… and no one will be any the wiser. Needless to say, we can't have Karla wasting all her energy or we'll be _completely _defenseless."

"Fair enough," said Cooper. "We'll figure out some ideas… Stephan, how long will it take you to build a point A and point B machine?"

"I've made them before… with gathering materials included, the whole thing should take about six hours to have both machines in place. So, where do we move?"

Conner smirked, leaning back in the kitchen chair until the front legs were off the tiled floor. "Maybe somewhere with a private waterfront access… a boat ramp or something. I don't know. You figure that out. Oh, and hey… how about you build a _gun_ instead of a _pad_, then shoot things you want to send over. Whatever – don't be limited by your imagination, right? I'm taking the girls out to look for environmental clues around this island – maybe we can find something that can tell us what happened to Keri. Also, I want to get some professional opinions on this chunk of amber we retrieved. After that, we'll go out and get supplies and maybe do some training."

"I shall have us moved into a new dwelling by nightfall," replied Stephan.

"Good." Cooper stood then announced, "Let's get ready, ladies. It's time to get this figured out – my mother once told me I'd make a fine detective… maybe I can figure something out, I don't know… I just want to find Keri. I've already lost far too many friends."

Karla stood up, pushed her chair in then tossed a lock of golden strands over her shoulder. "My two favorite people to work with… let's get going."

Stephan lifted his gaze to her. "You liked me well enough last night. After all, it is a much-appreciated change for the better in regards to your errant and disgusting display of lesbianism. But you already know how I feel about such, girls. I'm highly against it. Surely it feels more natural to be with me than _her_," he mused with a nod toward Dawn.

"Don't be egotistical," replied the felox. "I can't help my estrus – if I could, I wouldn't have wound up in your bed last night, Stephan. And either way, you'd think that in all the years you've been alive, you'd have learned to kiss as good as Dawn does, who has only been around for, like, nineteen years. So, please, un-inflate your ego, love."

Dawn winced, feeling bad for Stephan's newly bruised pride. "Karla, let's not create anymore tension among the four of us. Please? I'm not exactly proud of myself for what happened the other night."

Karla patted Dawn's forearm. "There's nothing to be ashamed about, Dawn. At least you're humble about what happened, unlike _this_ one," she said, nodding towards the skunk. "He acts like I belong to him all of a sudden. News flash, monsieur," she turned her gaze back to Stephan and smirked. "I'm the most complicated creation you've _ever_ dreamed up – you'll do well to recognize that fact: I'm more than just another invention. After all those years you've been alive, one would also think you'd have some sort of true appreciation for other sentient life." She paused then, under her breath, added, "Douche bag."

Conner shook his head with a sigh, placed a paw upon Karla's shoulder and led her away from the table. Dawn followed. The raccoon boy cleared his throat as they stepped out into the hallway and addressed both females. "I have no idea what happened between Stephan and you, Karla, but let it go. You made a bad decision and he was apparently a bad lay. It happens. We kinda' need his help. We're a team. None of us have time for drama right now. You've tried to get into the pants of everyone but Keri… I understand you've been engineered to be some passionate sex goddess but… can't you just… tone it down for now? Salt Pewter or something?"

Karla rolled her eyes as the trio headed down the steps to the first floor. "I'm not proud of myself. The saddest part of last night is that I actually fantasized about my husband the whole time. I don't care what you guys think about him _or_ me. But I'll be honest – I'm just waiting for Winnie to get his head out of his arse. When that happens, I'll happily be his mate again. Until then, I'm my own person and I'm happy to snuggle where _ever_ I feel comfortable."

Conner glanced back at Dawn then shook his head slowly. The expression in his eyes was like an unspoken statement, which Dawn understood. She shrugged back and the issue was dropped. Once outside, Conner came between them both and said, "I'm going to circle the general area and look for any tire marks. I'm going to talk to the local magazine stand owner who seems to know a little too much about everything… I want you two to look around the immediate vicinity. Look for tire marks in the grass – with the recent storm the ground is still wet and soft… Try to look for anything… Maybe Keri dug her heels in the ground if someone had to drag her… just keep your eyes open."

Dawn nodded, followed by a similar gesture from Karla. They watched as he made his way off the property and began to walk across the street. Karla then turned to Dawn and sighed with a shrug. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I don't know what the hell is wrong with my hormones. You're a really cool chick, Dawn. I have no intentions of driving wedges between _anyone_. So…" She offered a paw to the teenager and asked, "Friends?"

Dawn placed a paw into Karla's then they both hugged one another. She whispered, "Sure, Karla. Friends. I think you should try and work out things with Winthrop. If there's anything I can do to help that relationship get back together, let me know… I'll talk to him for you and help try to get his head out of his rump so he can see that you love him. Just… anything you need, hon."

"I appreciate that. Also, I think you should give Conner a chance – he really has feelings for you."

Dawn patted the woman on her back gently. "Yeah, I've fallen hopelessly in love with him to be honest. He says he's been awake for a total of two or three months in the last three years and there was no gap of time for him… he's in a relationship with me one minute then wakes up the next and still has feelings for me… and he said he's now _falling in love_ with me… what he doesn't realize is…" She took a slow, deep breath then continued. "He's treated me so perfectly that I put him on a pedestal for the entire duration of his coma…" Dawn rested her chin on Karla's shoulder. "I've compared every relationship, even the long lasting ones… to what I felt with Conner and… it's blossomed into this intense sensation of adoration. And, last night, for the first time in ages… he kissed me… he was forward and firm and… he just blasted through all the mental armor and… I was floored."

The raccoon's voice lowered regardless of the lack of anyone nearby. "I felt on fire just from his kiss."

Karla grinned, patting Dawn playfully on the rump. "You got off just from his kiss, huh?" She drew her head back and looked into the raccoon's eyes. "I'd say you're hopelessly taken with him. It's adorable… but it's also hot that you respond to his touch that way."

Dawn blushed, lowering her eyes. "He, uh… pinned me up against the shower wall. I thought he was going to take me right there… but then he had to go and stop before things got too far. Y'know… the whole body-respect thing. But yeah, I felt his body against mine… next thing I know… I was shuddering from it all. He's… wow. What a kisser – it's possibly because I'm so insanely obsessed with him. I'd marry him tomorrow if I wasn't scared."

"Scared of what?" Karla tilted her head.

Dawn offered a dubious glare, her nose brushing against the other woman's. "He could die at any moment – any of us could die at any moment, Karla. This is insanely dangerous… finding this guy, Moreau, and trying to fight him. I'm scared of losing Conner again."

Karla chuckled then leaned forward and kissed her friend's forehead. "Baby, tell him if he lives through this… you'll transform him from a boy into a man. That'll give him incentive to keep his head attached to his shoulders."

Again, Dawn blushed furiously. "I, uh, I want a relationship… not just meaningless sex."

Karla lifted her paws, cupping Dawn's face. "Sweetie, he's so in love with you it's practically sad! Trust me, he's ready to provide a relationship." She grinned then leaned forward again, this time kissing Dawn's nose. "Now… you'll help me with Winthrop, so I'll help you loosen up and be more open to hooking up with your future boyfriend."

"We sorta… hooked up last night," murmured Dawn. "But we never officially decided to claim a status, and…"

"Hush," replied the half-breed. "Would you be upset if he kissed another girl?" Her words received a nod from Dawn. Karla then cleared her throat and asked, "Other than me, have either of you two kissed anyone else? Do you plan to?" This time, Dawn shook her head. Karla grinned and said, "Then you two have decided only to share these affectionate moments with one another, right? That, to me, is a relationship. Expressing fidelity to one another and only one another… Think of it this way! Let's say there was a hooker; now stay with me, girl… and let's say this hooker only ever had one client. It was the same client every single time, and they paid the hooker but never went to another… only the _one_ hooker… And this client paid the hooker very well… and the hooker took care of the one client's every need… well, shoot… I don't know about you, but that sounds like _marriage_ to me." Karla's grinned evolved into a Cheshire smile. "All that's missing is a ring and the sharing of a toothbrush. Seriously."

"Thanks," said Dawn in a quiet voice. She gave Karla a gentle squeeze around the waist.

"No problem, babydoll," said Karla with a brilliant smile. "But tell me truthfully… Was _I_ a good kisser? Be honest."

Yet again, Dawn blushed brightly. "Yes." She cupped either side of the felox's face and said, "While no one is looking… just one more for the road but this'll be the last time. From here on out, I'm saving all my lovin' for Conner." She leaned forward.

"I won't turn down perfectly good sugar." Karla leaned in until their lips brushed gently. The embrace lasted a good moment or two but neither kept track of time. Their paws roamed over one another's soft, silky fur, Karla being a bit more playful with her paws than Dawn. Finally, the felox grasped the raccoon's rump firmly before breaking the joining of their lips. Just to be playful, she drew Dawn's face against her chest and said, "You'll miss these too, don't lie."

A soft giggle escaped Dawn's muzzle, followed by a nod, nuzzling her face into Karla's pillowy chest. "Yes, I will… You're a lot of fun and I'm sorry we ever argued in the past. I'm glad you understand that I have feelings for Conner. You're a wonderful kisser but… it's not the same as him… I feel so strongly about him that every time he kisses me, I'm on cloud nine. It's intense. And that intensity is so amazing that I melt into goo inside just from being near him." She snuggled into Karla's arms for a moment. "I just need someone to talk to about it… someone who understands me. So I guess you're that person, Karla."

"Yeah," she replied with a soft chuckle, patting Dawn behind the ears with a soft affectionate touch. "I guess I am, honey. Chin up, you'll marry him and have a hundred thousand babies together. It'll be cute as can be."

Finally, Dawn wiggled away from the vanilla-furred vix and said, "I'm all about that boy…" She lowered her head, reaching up to rub at the backside of her neck in an attempt to step away from the awkward sensation of having just made out with Karla all over again. Her eyes trailed the ground. She blinked and changed the subject completely. "What the hell is that?" She backed away from Karla then pointed at the ground.

The half-breed knelt down and narrowed her gaze, looking at a rut in the grass. "Holy hell… the kid was right. This is a tire mark." She placed her paws on the ground, rubbing at the indentation. "There are a few impressions, here… it looks like this is where the car sat, because I don't see any tracks, just the indentations in the ground."

Dawn gasped. "No, it was a hover car – these marks are from where it settled down while it was parked. Therefore, Conner won't find any other marks besides this. C'mon, let's go find him – he said he'd be around the corner at the magazine stand."

"Sure." Karla jerked her paw out again, slapping Dawn upon the rump, causing the raccoon to flinch. Just as her paw met the raccoon's backside, they both teleported two blocks up. Karla then placed a paw on Dawn's shoulder and pivoted the girl so that she was now facing the old man and Conner down at the far end. The girls began walking up the block until they were standing on either side of Cooper.

Dawn leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Sorry to interrupt but the kidnapper used a hover car."

The old man perked. "Did she just say a _hover car_? That was just minutes after sunrise. There was a girl slumped in the passenger seat – she looked like she was sleeping. It was one of those American brand models – I don't know which one, though. But I remember that the car was black and well polished. Pretty car, even though I prefer tires." He began to rant, saying, "That's the thing about these new cars… With an old car, no matter how old it was, and no matter how par the windows looked, if you kept your tires clean and shiny looking, the whole car looked cleaner at first glance. It _really_ added to the car's look…"

Karla rolled her eyes. "That's great, old timer… really awesome, monsieur, but we're worried the sleeping girl was our friend… and we're also worried that she wasn't sleeping out of choice – which way did they go?"

The old man pointed to the right. "Your personality _sucks_, lady."

Karla smirked. "You're just jealous because you're too old to get it up anymore. We're in a _hurry_, here."

The old man smirked in reply. "I'm helping you because this young man is kind and pleasant every time I see him." He then lifted a paw making a one-fingered gesture to Karla. "Your type doesn't catch my interest, anyhow. Never trust anything that self-lubricates or bleeds for several days without dying. That's _my_ motto. Now take your little tookus and get to stepping, missy."

Karla's eyes widened in shock at his sharp return, making her attitude seem small quite in comparison. She then smiled, folded her arms and cut her gaze to Conner. "Well hell, I _like_ this guy." She turned back to him and said, "You're all right with me, old man. Anyone that can show some backbone has my respect."

"Anything else you kids want?"

Dawn cleared her throat. "Where can we get knick-knacks appraised?"

The old man folded his arms, mirroring Karla. "That depends on what you've got. I own a store on the backside of this building that has rare baseball cards, coins and rare gemstones."

"You do?" Conner's brows lifted.

"Yeah," replied the man. "I'm in business with my brother who happens to be a Catholic priest – so don't be spouting off any damned jokes about Catholic priests or my brother in general, just because _I_ don't care for women. I won't have that nonsense in my presence; he's a good man."

Dawn and Karla lifted their paws defensively. Conner glanced at them then back at the gentleman. "Sure thing, gramps. He might just be the perfect person to look at this stone, anyhow. Where can we find him?"

"He's at the store, now. I'm usually here in the morning while he runs the store until around four in the afternoon. He does evening mass at eighteen hundred hours." The old man stretched then rubbed his hip tenderly. "C'mon, follow me over there."

* * *

_Two hours later_…

**"I can't help but feel sidetracked**_**," **_said Conner with a slow shake of his head. "God, the people who have Keri could be a hundred miles away by now." He brought his paws to his face, rubbing at his cheekbones.

"Conner," Dawn sighed and placed a paw on his shoulder. "I know you feel guilty spending all that time in that little shop… but if that man is right about the Fire Stone of India…"

Karla cut into the conversation. "It's a pretty _fantastic_ allegation. There's no way to prove his theory, which is beyond reality anyhow. I definitely do _not_ buy into it. I know more about religion than a _lot_ of people and, let me tell you, that guy… his claim is… it's just insane. Talk about your fairytales…"

"Karla…" Conner trailed off with a sigh of his own and glanced passed Dawn to the felox. "It actually makes a little bit of sense – why else would these dopes working for 'M' be after fossilized tree sap? That man's exotic claim might be a little difficult to swallow but it actually kinda' makes sense."

"Yeah, if you're retarded enough to believe that daft old wackjob, then yeah… you're right… it actually kinda' makes sense. Seriously. It's not the freaking seed from the _actual_ Tree of Knowledge. Just about everyone _knows_ that the "forbidden fruit" is a metaphor for sex outside of wedlock. Eve was seduced by Satan, she invited her husband to join in… God freaks out and kicks them out of the garden. Then He makes Eve's pregnancies become painful. Caine was the child of Satan, Abel and Seth were the children of Adam… and, on a semi-related note, Adam and Eve are _plural_ words that mean _men_ and _women_ respectively. So the story is about the early tribes of men and women… And the tribe of Caine wars with the tribe of Abel over how to worship God… and the warring tribes massacre one another. The tribe of Seth says, 'SCREW THIS' and moves away from the tribe of Caine. No matter HOW you interpret the Creation story, there is NO physical piece of fruit… there is NO SEEDS from that fruit, and that guy had no idea what he was talking about! End of story. We can't waste precious time on stupid crap like _that._"

Dawn and Conner looked at one another in silence then back at Karla. Finally, Conner murmured, "Okay."

"What if it was an Almond from Aaron's staff?"

Karla glanced back at Dawn then shrugged. "Even that theory is more feasible… but it's not correct, either. We can tell when we look at it with that man's microscope… that it's a seed, half the size of an almond. It _does_ look like a seed one would find in a piece of fruit… and that doesn't help us figure out _why_ anyone would want to steal the damn thing… We should take it back to Stephan and have him drill into the amber… then he can do a genetic test to see what kind of seed it really is."

The trio stepped into the rental house. The first floor was still covered in debris but the second floor was a great deal cleaner. It now lacked furnishings and appeared far less cluttered than before. Conner brought a paw to his chin. "Boy, he works fast, huh?" No one replied.

They walked single file down the hallway to Stephan's room and opened the door. The trio filed in, crowding around the skunk who was packing equipment from his laboratory in bubble wrap sheets. He glanced back at them and furrowed his brows. "Well?"

Conner nodded. "She was abducted most likely. We think it was a black hover car. We also want to know about the seed inside the Fire Stone of India. Is there any way you can drill into the amber and see what kind of seed is in there?"

Stephan smirked. "It's from an extinct fruit that grew on a tree that once was in abundance along the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. I used a drill that is small enough to drill a hole into a single hair – yes, drills that small _do exist_, so don't insult me with your petty disbelief. Look it up. Needless to say, I _did_ look at the artifact when you _first_ returned, _hours ago_. I extracted a microscopic piece to study. I've let the computer analysis run all morning while I packed up things… I have another computer building the teleportation gear, which is not yet ready. The seed you've found is so dense it's unlike anything I've ever seen in person and it was created in a lab, not in the wild."

"Where is it?"

Stephan casually pointed to a piece of equipment against the far left wall. "The sample is called, '_Tree of Life_' although I cannot be sure if it lives up to that name just yet. Needless to say, it's the oldest seed I've ever seen that could be planted now – I guesstimate it at close to seven thousand years. Most organic mass turns to dust long before, or is fossilized. The thing is, I don't have a sample of this seed on file. It's very different than any known sample on record. It's in perfect condition as though it had just come from its fruit a matter of days ago. This is an oddly rare and interesting find, children."

Conner and Dawn turned to look at Karla who smirked but said nothing.

"I resent being referred to as a _child_," said Karla, "Especially after last night – unless, of course, you think of yourself as a pedophile."

"Your antipathy is noted. Don't be complicated," said Stephan.

"I am, deal with it." She smiled somewhat. "Okay, so this is from an extinct fruit that you have no record of. You used technology to date it back to about seven thousand years ago. How do you know it came from trees that grew in modern day Iraq, along those two rivers if you've never seen it before?"

Stephan kept a straight, stoic face. "Inside the sap, there are particles of matter that can even tell me the saline content of the air from the time. Needless to say, the water levels are…"

Karla lifted her paws. "Bullshit! Stop lying. How do you _know_ it was from that area? What are you hiding? It might be important to understanding all of this crap so just spit it out."

Stephan grew quiet for a moment. Finally, he settled on a lab stool and folded his paws together. "I'm… pretty old. I don't know where to begin, so I'll just… start with the beginning."

No one spoke.

"Those trees were still around when I was a boy. The fruit looked a little bit like pomegranate. They were man-made by scientists who wanted to make the perfect fruit to solve hunger issues. But the plant was delicate and the seeds from the fruit wouldn't grow in any condition, no matter how perfect. They were basically clones, made one at a time and planted throughout the Mesopotamian area… No one knew how old the original sample was, only that it was perfect in every way… The original tree and fruit used to grow naturally and it generated the most amazing fruit ever. Suddenly, it disappeared so scientists of the time cloned the seeds and planted them… but when those trees bared fruit, the seeds grown in that fruit was unable to grow into more trees. Do you follow?"

Conner rubbed the side of his face. "Okay… So… you're saying… that you're like… five or six _thousand_ years old? Is that what I should be getting out of this?"

This time Stephan was silent. Dawn turned to the other raccoon. "You've seen Karla sling objects and people around with her mind then teleport around the room… why is it suddenly so difficult to believe in supernaturals now? Besides, you've got your own abilities…"

"What Karla and I can do…" Conner took a slow, deep breath of air, "That's all scientifically explainable. Her frontal lobe is big; my body is somehow energetically charged on an atomic level… maybe I have a small mutation… The electrons out number the neutrons or positrons or whatever… I don't freaking know, but there's science behind it. But there's no reason why someone like Kalen has to drink blood. There's no reason why Stephan should be thousands upon thousands of years old."

"Honey, super naturals exist," said Karla.

The skunk added, "I am _not_ a super natural being. I was a scientist who genetically altered my DNA to disable my 'aging gene'. A simple gunshot is all it would take to end my existence. I wasn't the only one… but standing the test of time is more difficult than one can imagine… and I am now the last one left. With all that has happened to me in my life, I'm lucky to be alive. Even a clone I've made of myself to help with my work… yes, even a clone… That clone was killed by Clockwerk (_Lament of Carmelita_) proving that he's rather mortal, as am I."

"Uh-huh, and just how old are you?" He placed his paws upon his hips.

Stephan shrugged. "That depends on which calendar you use. I prefer the Mayan calendar; it's far more accurate than the one we use today. I'm old enough that you would _not_ believe my claim. Therefore it makes no sense to tell you. Just know that I'm fairly well aged, considering that I don't age. Perhaps, if you survive Moreau, I'll tell you."

Karla narrowed her eyes. "Enough with the semantics, old man. Don't withhold information that will help us." She turned to Conner and said, "He's about fifty-three hundred years old. He's survived by tucking his tail between his legs, so he's very good at it. He used to invent fantastic weapons to protect him but after the fiasco with Sire, Donovan and Reaper – immortals that all met their death… he decided to change his tune. Now he just hides from everyone and everything. If he had any kind of backbone at all, he would be stopping Moreau personally instead of getting me drunk enough to have sex."

Stephan looked ashamed, lowering his eyes. "My last child was four thousand years ago. The line lasted for a few _hundred_ years but eventually stopped when the line whittled down to two sisters, neither who married or had children."

"So you wanted to knock me up?" sneered Karla. "I _have_ a family and a husband, you idiot! We may be separated but I'm not trying to have more kids, dammit! Why don't you clone another bitch with which you can breed? I'm not yours, you imbecile. Get that through your 'flawless' old brain, Niall!"

"I never said I was flawless… just old. I wanted you back in the fourteen hundreds. I wanted your first clone, which spoke with an elegant archaic French accent. I wanted your third clone, who spoke with a more Americanized accent. But you… _you_ are the one that succeeded where the others failed to live very long. I am attracted to your successes and achievements. You are the one who survived the test of time and finally amounted to something. Your drama with Winthrop is not my concern. It was a mere couple of years together… a drop in the bucket compared to my lifetime. I desire you to carry on my genetics just in case I am ever mortally wounded – I won't live forever, as forever is a _very_ long time. Eventually something will happen to me and I will die… whether or not it's a virus or a bullet or something more innocent, I don't know."

"Clone a female version of yourself," muttered Karla. "You and I will never happen again. Especially _now_; I won't be used by you, Stephan."

He nodded silently. "Very well then… what is your plan? How do you want to find Moreau's underwater dome?" He added, "And please, let's use my current name so as not to create more confusion."

Again, no one spoke.

"Fair enough." Stephan replied. "We need to get all of those other artifacts to stop another cataclysm. I survived one god-forsaken Armageddon and I probably won't survive a second one… so preventing it seems to me a much better idea. But we're not doing anything but spinning our wheels right now. Pardon my frustration but no one seems to know where that damned thing is and… ugh."

Conner sighed. "I'll be back." He left the lab and walked back to his old room then picked up a landline phone. He punched in a few numbers and waited. After a few seconds, a female voice answered. He cleared his throat and said, "Hey. How're things over there?"

There was a pleasant reply with the same question returned. Conner slumped on his bed. "Good… bad… I don't even know anymore. It's confusing. We're at a roadblock. My awesome team is fighting with itself, I'm struggling to keep my cool and we can't find Doctor M's Atlantis Dome. No one knows where it is except for those who have already been captured or killed by him. It's driving me crazy."

"Conner," said Penelope with a soft sigh, "I never thought I'd suggest this but… it's all we have left. I know someone who has been to the dome and survived but you probably won't want to talk to them."

His brows furrowed. "Who?"

"Bentley still has the CPU, flash memory and basic components from Clockwerk's last build. We could boot him up without a body and ask him or, at the very least, try to extract the information from his digital brain."

Silence. Penelope waited for him to reply then asked, "You still there?"

"Yeah."

She paused again then said, "Look, it's the best I have to offer. It's a good idea and it will work because he's committed it to his memory. That dome may have moved a little bit because it's not anchored to the seabed but he'll be able to find it."

"Can you come here?"

"I suppose." She then changed her tone and said, "I don't want to get in the middle of this. I've seen everyone I love taken from me over all of this. I'm scared to death of joining them prematurely."

"Penelope, Stephan and I both feel that Doctor M. may have put everyone into suspended animation. That gives him the power of hostages without having to feed them or worrying that they might escape."

"Don't… fill me with false hope, Conner. My heart can't take it. I'll be there in the morning, okay sweetheart? How's the girl that used to visit you while you were in the hospital?"

"Dawn? She's doing well – she's here with me now. Winthrop's wife is here, and the guy who built and rebuilt Clockwerk is also here. We're in the middle of moving but we can stay here for just one more night."

"I'll see you soon then." She bid her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Cooper walked back to Stephan's lab and announced, "Penelope is on her way. Don't get all bent out of shape but… she's bringing Clockwerk. He knows where this dome is."

"She's doing _what_?" Stephan looked up, brows furrowed and his head tilted.

"Don't worry, his body is long gone… he's just a CPU and a few chips, now. Stephan, you know him well – you can get information from him. Maybe we don't even have to boot him up, you can just purge digital information off of his hard drive or whatever."

"He doesn't have a hard drive," said Stephan. "He wasn't designed that way. He has to be running to get information from him. He's a living machine and will need to be coaxed into helping us. However, he harbors a great deal of ill will towards Moreau – he might be willing to help us to see vengeance towards those who have destroyed both his bodies. After all, he's quite capable of hatred and I understand he holds a great deal of it towards Doctor M."

"Good. Can we melt down his brains and guts after we've finished taking down Moreau? Just to be safe."

"That's fine with me, young man." Stephan folded his arms. "Are we still moving tonight?"

"Let's hold off until morning, but all belongings go. I'm going to go and call her back and give her our address. Everyone just relax and take the day to put your feet up. Karla, if you wanna do a training class this afternoon, set up a time with Dawn and I'll take whatever other time is available. Just… let's all take a break and a breather, huh?"

Dawn eyed him suspiciously. "You want to go and catch a movie or something, later?"

Conner's frustration seemed to melt away. "Really? Yeah that'd be great."

Karla rubbed the side of her face. "I'm going to take a hot bath," she turned to Stephan and smirked. "Without _you_." She then glanced back at Dawn and Conner. "Tell you what, I'll even think about you two while I'm in there." She offered a joking grin then passed between them and headed out of the room.

Dawn turned to Stephan. "You've really pissed her off. Now she's saying anything she can to get under your skin."

"Quite so. She's also about six or seven years old, tops. She was grown as a teenage body, she didn't have a real childhood… so it seems to me that she's displaying a childish front out of anger towards her creator – me."

Dawn shook her head slowly. "Let's just drop it. I suggest you sit down and think out a way to tell us more about yourself. We'll be ready to listen when you're ready to talk about it." She took Conner's wrist and led him out of the laboratory. Stephan sat alone on his stool surrounded by computer gear. He sighed and his shoulders slumped a bit.

* * *

A/N: _God, Y'know, I really miss Reflections of Marcus McCloud. I can't want to start re-reading that soon. Of course, I'll finish this story, first. I also have great plans for Spy Cooper because I've developed all the missing parts in THIS story… Clockwerk eventually loses his body, there are characters that do stuff that create things that play a later part… and show up in this story. Yay. It kinda' sucks that Karla won't be in it, LMAO. She's so much fun to write. And hot. _

_I'm honestly surprised by the lack of response to the last chapter, LOL. Action, romance and… let's face it… a lot of people wanted to see Dawn and Conner hook it up… and then… two reviews, LOL._

_I'm not upset, I'm amused. Okay, so from here on out… the 'team' is Conner Cooper, Dawn and Karla Weasel. The dream team or whatever. _

_Woo! _

_The short kissing scene between Dawn and Karla was for YOU, Tex! xD_

_Yeah, I always try to give readers what they want to see, LOL. Although, honestly, I don't care for this chapter - lol. I don't know what it is I don't like about it... but it just... kinda... sucks? Yeah, sucks. That's the word I'm looking for! lol  
_

_Speaking of that on an unrelated note… at the end of the year when I start posting original works on FanFiction Net's sister site… FICTIONPRESSdotCOM, are any of you going to read my original works? Just curious!_

_I'll do furry and normal work, but it'll all be original. I'm just curious if anyone will be curious enough to read stuffs!_


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: WOW. I BLAZED through this chapter! So let's dive into it! But first… a note from the author. I wrote a massive author's note to start this chapter but, after thinking better on it… I decided to move the monster down to the bottom. Thanks again for reading my material! I'd like to take a moment to talk about a few things, including Karla's cryogenic hibernation – I've received a few questions about it and I suppose now is as good a time as any to address it. So, I put all of that in the author's note that I've now relocated to the bottom of the chapter. Woo!

* * *

Chapter -28-

**The metal case on wheels sprung open**, displaying a rack mount computer. The cases read, "Cisco" on the front. Penelope began plugging in the components one by one. "Bentley placed his odds and ends into old networking equipment cases we found at the scrap yard." She hooked each panel up with multiple connectors then plugged them into the socket that was built into a fancy looking battery. "This is all that remains of him," she said.

Stephan folded his arms uncomfortably while Karla, Dawn and Conner crowded around. Penelope gestured for their attention. "Bentley set up a master verbal command lock. These units will not power up unless you know the correct sequence of phrasings." She turned to Conner and added, "When your father broke his wings, he fell into the lava. While splashing around helplessly, he shouted out a random collection of phrases because he was stunned… call it _Kernel Panic_ if you like. Only someone who was there who would remember those phrases in order would ever be able to start this machine… that way Clockwerk was done for."

"You remember them? You weren't there."

Penelope smiled at her godson. "Bentley asked me to memorize this, should I ever need to do what I'm about to do." She lifted her head and said, "Conner, forgive me," to the heavens.

A lick of her lips then she flipped the switch and in a calm, monotone voice, she recited, "I am… Been selling… Flowers… Never… Reality… Belay… I will become… Feet together… I will live… Redirect energy…" She drew in another slow breath and, slightly louder, exclaimed, "Cooper! You will never be rid of me! Clockwerk is superior!" She licked her lips again and backed away for effect. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karla, Dawn and Conner back up a step or two. It brought a secret grin to her muzzle.

One by one, each of the boxes began to light up. Cooling fans in the back of each unit hummed to life. A speaker in the bottom unit crackled softly followed by a monotone male voice. "Sly Cooper, you have escaped my gas chamber and destroyed my Death Ray…" There was a slow, almost labored breathing sound, followed by, "Remarkable. You Coopers always find a way to beat me!"

"Can it, you silly bag of bolts," scolded Penelope. "I know your useless prattle by now… '_Perfection has no age_,' blah, blah, blah. You're a washed up punk – silicon chips and plastic breadboard. You've been installed inside of some metal containers that we found at a junkyard because that's what you amount to, now."

Conner cleared his throat and said, "I'm the son of Sly Cooper and I'm the last remaining of the family line. But it's time to cast aside petty differences because your only _true_ enemy – the one who stripped you of your last body, betrayed you and left you for scrap innards… is now in position to collect all the artifacts and take over _everything_. Are you following me?"

"Define these artifacts," replied the speaker. It buzzed slightly from age.

"You know damn well what I mean by artifacts. He has almost all of them. The spear tip, the pearls, the golden locust, the pendant you wanted from the family so badly… and several other pieces… The only thing he lacks is the Fire Stone of India and a staff I retrieved in Ethiopia. He's after them then _he'll_ have achieved everything _you_ ever wanted. Power over everything… perfection. He even still has your body."

"I would have used it to rip the flesh from his bones. I would grind them into powder while his blood runs over my talons. I would end his existence with great zeal."

"SHUT UP," shouted Conner. "You're a bunch of boxes built into an old networking rack mount – I'd be glad to let you rip him apart but I heard that the last time you tried it… you were captured and stripped down. Twice in a row, if I'm not mistaken."

"State your point," came Clockwerk's concise reply.

Dawn whispered, "You've got his attention now."

"I want coordinates. I'll even take you there myself and you can help me find it. I want vengeance. I want to find Alphonse Moreau and snag my cane hook around his neck then stomp on the entire thing from the fulcrum to the base so that it snaps his god damned head from his shoulders. Are we on the same page here?"

"You do not possess a vessel for me to make such a venture, boy."

"You're wrong," replied Conner. "You could do it from right here. I would tether you to my cellular phone – it will connect with your base location via any means necessary… GPS satellite, cellular and everything else. Am I right? You could reprogram it to become your eyes and ears, am I right?"

"Conner!" Penelope threw her arms into the air. "Are you kidding? He could get into a lot of trouble by providing him a connection to the outside world!"

The boy glanced back at the elder mouse and smiled. "I know my history. He has his memories but new equipment, which is now over two decades outdated. He may have lived a long time but he's never connected to the modern Internet. We can set up a localized _Intranet_ that is a closed network between this box and my phone. Without the Internet from which to learn, he won't know how to hack his way out of the local 'cage'. When I get my new phone, we can hack it and remove the browser application so that he doesn't have a means to 'get out'."

Impressed, the mouse rubbed her chin and said, "It might actually work."

Stephan cleared his throat. "Your plan has one hitch – you won't receive cellular reception out that far… you'll lose satellite reception once you're beneath the water."

"Ah, Niall," said Clockwerk. "You've never lived up to your name – I would have preferred you to _kneel_ before me if only just once…"

"Shut up," said Karla, adding, "Stephan, you can easily build a device to draw in cellular signal, redirect and boost it… and I'm willing to wager you can make it fit into a cufflink if you desired. Don't be difficult."

"Karla Chintzy," hummed the speaker. "You're dead… _again_. And now you're working with the Cooper family?"

She turned back to the rack mount server boxes and said, "Do you want me to teleport your CPU out of there? I'm sure you'll function _really well_ without that piece of crap… if you don't want to find out then I suggest you shut up until spoken to."

Dawn frowned. "Conner, you _want_ his help?"

"Ah, a new voice – one I do not recognize."

Conner clinched his paw tightly and moved his paw towards the collection of metallic boxes. The lights began blinking sporadically and the cooling fans revved up loudly. The speaker began to crackle. After a moment, he withdrew his paw and said, "What did _that_ feel like?"

"…Pain."

Cooper smiled brightly. "That was _me_. The gang is referring to it as 'Techno-Kinetic' and it really screws with electronic devices. The madder I get, the more powerful it becomes… I've rebooted systems, erased flash drives and at my angriest, I've fried computer chips and even smaller circuitry like transistors and such… The Cooper family has evolved. You're a computer so that makes _me_ your worst nightmare. Now… are you a friend or a foe? I'll find that piece of crap out in the Atlantic Ocean with or without your help. I feel it would be faster if we cooperate and then, at the very least, you get to avenge yourself for what Moreau did to you. Are you _in_ or are you _out_ dated?"

Everyone grew silent, waiting to see how Clockwerk would respond. Finally, the speaker crackled back to life. "I will be your ally so long as your leash does not falter. Should you be careless and release me back into the world… I will make you pay dearly for such humiliation. However, due to a lack of options… I will help you in order to provide retribution against Doctor M. I hate him."

Conner smirked. "Hey, they were right about your 'superior artificial intelligence' pal. You really _are_ smart. Good luck creating Sky Net, Clockwerk… this Intranet will be so tightly secured, you won't even…"

Clockwerk interjected. "I will power down so that you may modify my remaining hardware to wirelessly link to your mobile device." Rather abruptly, the linked set of metallic boxes turned off. After a few seconds, the softly humming fans went quiet.

The raccoon grinned. "He probably didn't even get my joke."

Dawn feigned a grin. "For once, _you_ know a pop culture reference that someone else didn't understand."

"Are you sure this is wise? He was a failure twice-fold." Everyone turned back to Stephan who added, "He's one of the only creations I've ever despised. If we see him start to hack his way out of his digital cage, I'll personally end him." He reached into a satchel on the wall and withdrew a small cylindrical device. It was a red canister with the letters, "AN-M14" on the top, "CE" beneath that, and at the bottom it read, "TH3"

Penelope giggled. "A Thermite grenade? Oh that's _hot_."

"Pardon?" Conner quirked a brow.

Stephan nodded. "She's quite correct. It _is_ hot. Quite hot. Forty-five hundred degrees will turn what's left of this failure into glowing liquid sludge. He's lucky that his usefulness has returned. He's bought himself a few days to exist once more."

Dawn rubbed her chin then drew a screwdriver from her pocket. "Let's open him up and install a wireless cellular card. What sort of connections are we looking at here… or are we going to have to do some soldering?"

"The latter," mused Penelope. She turned to the skunk and said, "Send your grenades with Conner. He can use them on that dome. I'll rust a set of nails grab some salt water and sand down an aluminum bar. I think the ratio of Iron Oxide to Aluminum is eight grams to three grams. Home made Thermite – I have a magnesium ribbon we can use to set it off by remote. But having those grenades will help melt the top off of that dome."

Conner glanced back at her. "I mean… they'll help if suicide becomes the best option… or if I get everyone out and want to fire off one last farewell on the way out… but it won't matter… the water will rush in and put out the fire."

Dawn shook her head rapidly. "No, no it won't. If anything, it'll feed off the oxygen in the water and create hydrogen gas as the byproduct, if I'm not mistaken. Don't be confused, that stuff doesn't exactly explode in the way you're thinking. No, Thermite is the _perfect_ thing to destroy that dome. Just put the grenades up in the rafters… or, if you want, after you leave, you can set them off right on the top of the dome then swim away… or…whatever it is you wish to do to escape."

Conner turned to Karla. "You'd teleport them into position."

A brilliant smile was offered. "Of course." The felox turned to Dawn then back to Stephan. "Finally… things are _finally_ about to become fun!" She then glanced to Penelope and added, "This metal monstrosity is a real piece of work. I hope you guys know what you're doing. The last time I saw him in Prague, he took the roof off the building, took Stephan's clone and cut him into kibble with lasers then the sonuvabitch drew an insane amount of attention to himself in Central America. I read that he tore up Paris a year or two later. Not very smart of him."

"We'll be fine," said Penelope. "He doesn't want to make the wrong move or he'll be gone for good."

"Which I fully support," Stephan told them. "Once he's outlived his usefulness, I would prefer that we melt him on the spot, regardless of how nicely he behaves."

"He's your creation," said Conner. "Do it if you want – I won't loose sleep over it." The teen cracked his knuckles. "I'm ready for this. Dawn, since you drive, you drive… can you go and get me a phone that has a really good camera feature, a very good processor and _lots_ of internal storage? Get an extended-life battery and a solid holster case for the thing." He approached her and placed his lips against the corner of her muzzle, passing her a plastic card in an eloquent, stealthy handoff.

She took the credit card, hid it with ease and returned the partial kiss. "See you soon, sweetheart." Dawn nodded wordlessly to Karla, offered the voluptuous female a thin smile then quickly left.

"I'm glad you two have been getting along lately," said Conner.

Karla shrugged with an inward grin. "Oh, you know… we found some common ground and now… shoot, it's like we know thee, ah, _naked truth_ about one another. You'd better work things out with her because you don't know what you're missing out on, Conner." An innocent smile; Karla patted his shoulder then told him, "She has feelings for you. All you have to do is keep from dying and you're a total shoe-in to get down that girl's panties."

"Oh mercy me," Penelope sighed to herself. She casually lifted her paws to her ears and began to hum softly.

"You get used to it," Stephan said to the mouse. "It's _Teen Drama the Reality TV Show_ around this household. We should finish moving to the new address this morning. Mrs. Wiseturtle, please pack up that nuisance. We'll all go together when Dawn returns."

* * *

**The floor.** The wall. The ceiling then the floor again. "Hear me, Tin Head?" The voice belonged to Conner Cooper. The room swirled about until several rack mount boxes came into view. A gritty red powder with small silvery slivers sparkled upon the top box. The visual was somewhat grainy. Conner said, "That's Thermite. I just read about it on Wikipedia – a place from which _you _are banned. Thermite, buddy. Invented in 1893, patented in 1895, this stuff burns every-and-anywhere, even in places without oxygen. Even underwater. Even directly above your CPU. If you so much as misbehave by telling a bad pun… we'll set this stuff off and it'll melt through every layer of your leftovers. You think you hate everything? Oh, wait until you're nothing left but slag… you'll _really_ be hating life then!" The picture cleared.

Clockwerk's voice came from both the speaker built into the bottom box on the rack as well as the speaker built into the phone. "The absolute magnitude levels detected in the micromachined accelerometer included in this handheld device are impressively accurate. Multi-axis magnitude and the direction of acceleration as a vector quantity allow me to sense orientation and subtle vibrations… Your heart is pounding rapidly, Cooper. I cannot smell your adrenaline but by my calculations, I can assume you're nervous to hold the arch-nemesis of your _entire family_ in the palm of your paw."

"You're tucked away in my front shirt pocket. You're feeling the buh-beat of my heart – that's normal, Chromie. What else can your motion sensor tell you?"

"It's surprisingly complex – it shows gravimetric readings and noise through oscillatory accelerations, as well as decibel through the microphone's measurements of air pressure. The oscillatory signal is counteracted in the gravimeter function by integral vibration isolation and signal processing." He then changed his tone and topic, saying, "If you lose your temper, I lose my window and you lose your aid."

"Then don't give me a reason to get angry," replied Cooper. "Else you'll never see the final look on Doc M's face right before he kicks the bucket. And I know how badly you _want_ to see that guy bite the bullet."

"Indeed."

A paw covered the front of the cellular phone's camera lens. Moments later, Clockwerk was able to connect with a GPS point. The layout of the Florida Keys was displayed including terrain and satellite imagery of buildings and streets. A gray-furred muzzle came into view of the phone's camera. There were a good deal of whiskers and a coal-black nose.

"Conner Cooper, what is it that you are doing?"

The phone was shoved into a holster and all went dark. Satellite link was lost as Conner walked away from a window. He cleared his throat and said, "Hush. I'm getting ready. We leave tonight. For right now, I'm turning you off while we figure out our course of action. Nighty-night!"

For Clockwerk, time stood still once more…

* * *

_The new apartment  
Middle of the night  
Florida Keys_

**Conner awoke with a start**, swatting at the uncomfortable sensation on his hip. He sat up, glaring at Dawn and Karla. "What the hell…?"

"You're right, Dawn… He _is _ticklish." Karla grinned and turned her attention to the sleepy raccoon. "You won't be going tonight."

"Huh?"

Dawn chimed in. "Another hurricane is blowing in from the Dominican Republic or something. We came in to tell you."

Easing his weight onto his right elbow, Conner glared at them both and said, "I'm definitely going. I'll use the hurricane to cover my approach. Trust me when I say it's for the best. And there's one other thing I neglected to mention before… _both_ of you are coming with me."

Dawn gawked. "I am?"

"You'll be fine," he said. "Dawn, you'll be operating safely out of danger by being in a hidden area… but you'll be there. We'll find a place for you to hide out upon arrival. Karla, you and I are going to be the main offensive strike team. What time is it?"

Karla sat down on the edge of his mattress. "Sleepy head, it's midnight. The storm is out in the water where you expect all of us to be… We don't have a boat. We can't secure the rental of a small submarine. No one wants to go out in that mess – they had to batten the hatches and secure the whatever. We're here for the long haul. No ride, no attack. Go back to bed."

He sat the rest of the way up and rubbed the side of his face. "No. It's now or never. We need this hurricane; it's the best thing that could have happened because I definitely do _not_ want a lot of publicity in regards to what I'm about to do. Also, we'll need a military grade vehicle that can go fast, hold extra gas and take lumpy terrain."

Karla turned to Dawn and announced, "He's not awake enough to know what he's saying."

Conner narrowed his gaze. "Find something trail rated to take abuse. We leave in an hour. I don't care who drives, so long as we can get there quickly. It's a _long_ ride out and I want to arrive before sunrise."

"Conner…" Dawn trailed off with a shake of her head. "Even doing seventy miles an hour through the water… you're talking about five hours, at the very least, of solid driving. That's a long way through a lot of deep water. Give it up, already… you're not making sense."

His eyes narrowed further. "Yeah? It will when you two get your tails in gear and get me something tough with big tires. Trust me, I won't let you guys down. We're running out of time, here and I saw how we're doing this in my dream and it will work."

Dawn groaned with a stern shake of her head. "Y'know what, fine – I'll get you a car that can take some abuse. When I get back, the storm will be an hour from landfall. Then you can take me seriously about renting someone else's vehicle based on its ability to be 'beat up'. You'd better hope the rental desks at the airport are twenty-four hours."

"Let's just remain calm," said Conner with a yawn. "G'on, Dawn. You can drive… we'll see you as soon as you return."

Dawn glared at him then turned about with an angry twitch of the tail. She left the bedroom. Once she was gone, Conner turned his gaze to Karla and offered a smile. "I've been reading up on Thaddeus Winslow Cooper. He was a charming flirtatious guy who loved using innuendos. You kissed her, didn't you?"

Karla offered a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah. I'd been clipped by a bullet – only enough to be a little more painful than a paper cut, thank goodness. Well, Dawn took care of me and cleaned up the blood matted in my fur. I thanked her with a kiss. So what if I flirt with her… she has soft lips and it was nice. That and I'm a pervert – what else do you want from me besides a _good time_, Conner?"

"I'm a little jealous," he said with a grin. "I'm jealous over _her_, not you…"

"You should be jealous _of_ me. She's a good kisser. You already know that, though. So no harm is done."

Conner reached a paw out and poked Karla in the forearm. "Does she _really_ love me?"

Her smile brightened. "Oh, yeah… she's got it _bad_ for you, boy. You better not disappoint her."

"I won't." He slid out of bed and tossed the comforter over Karla's head, going for the dresser against the wall. The blanket dropped to the floor and Karla reappeared standing on top of it.

She then realized why he'd covered her head upon seeing his nude form. "Dear me," she murmured in a fashion similar to what she'd heard Penelope say earlier that afternoon. She pivoted to the left but watched him out of the corner of her right eye. "Do you think all three of us are going to survive the attack on that dome?"

"We have to," he mumbled, fishing through the unsorted pile of clothes that had been shoved into the top drawer. "It's not just an attack… it's a rescue operation. But let's not mention that around Clockwerk. He might do the math and weigh the death of a single mandrill against a _family_ of Coopers. I don't want to take that chance."

"He's a wildcard in this operation," burbled the felox with a sigh. "I wish Javari were here. She could sit down and figure out our chances to see if Clockwerk helps or hurts our success rate."

"It's quite possible that she's there waiting for us to rescue her." Conner snagged a pair of undergarments and doubled over, putting his left then his right foot into them. He pulled them up along his legs, cutting his eyes over. "Hey!" He quickly pulled them the rest of the way up and put his fists on his hips. "I caught you looking. You _are_ a pervert!"

"You only say that because you're a virgin. Any other straight adult male would take it as a compliment unless he was shy. And I know one thing, Conner… you're _not_ shy."

"You're right, I'm not… but I'm also _not interested_ in your advancements. You're hot as hell, sexy and easy to fantasize about… but you're married with a kid and I respect Winthrop and his son. Not only that, I'm in _love_ with _Dawn_."

"You should be, it turns out that girl is a _lot_ of fun."

"Like I said, I'm glad you guys are finally getting along."

Karla smiled. "We are. You want to get along with me, too?"

"We get along just fine as it is. No need to add complication to the chemistry this team has right now. So. Have you figured out how we're getting out there?"

"I'm sure you'll surprise me… either that or work me. I don't teleport people further than a city block. And even _that_ is tiring."

"I need you fresh upon arrival," said Conner. He pulled on a blue shirt and adjusted the lay of the fabric then gray pants. "Look, our first order of business is to get Dawn somewhere in the framework, so to speak. Where all the wires are in that thing… if they have a sewer system that might work. We'll get here safe, secure and set up… then you and I will go in there like two 'barney bad asses' and lay down the law."

"Just like that, huh? What about the Fire Stone? I thought you intended to put it in your family's vault and hide it away."

"It seemed like the smart thing to do… Fly out to the South Pacific and hide the damn thing… but Moreau might have made a backdoor for himself when he crawled out of there, two and a half decades ago. In my dream, I realized what I have to do with it. It's a little over the top and God knows if it'll work… but the message was pretty clear."

Karla narrowed her gaze at him, scrunching her delicate little nose with a moue of disgust. "I hate when you're secretive. All sort of crazy crap happens when you get this way. It's dizzying just to keep up when pillars start shooting up out of the ground and boulders start flying down at us… Fire and Brimstone kind of crap as of late… I don't like that. What do you have in mind?"

"I'm going to _give_ Moreau the Fire Stone of India."

"What?" She blinked twice. "You're going to… _WHAT_?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm taking everything else from him. He's getting that. It's the last thing he'll ever receive, believe me."

Karla shrugged, paws outwards. "Whatever." She picked up his shoes then tossed them to the boy. "Let's get ourselves together. I know I'm a dainty little femme but we women love a good climax – Let's get climatic; I'm ready to blow shit up."

Conner broke into an amused chuckle, "Karla! I rarely hear you cuss."

"Bull, you hear me cuss. You just don't realize it half the time because you don't listen to me half the time. I know it's not lady like but guess what? I don't give a flying f–" The phone rang. She flinched, startled. "Jesus, what is _that_? Is that your new phone?"

The obnoxious siren sounded like a klaxon alarm. Conner reached for the unit on the counter. "What? You don't like my ringtone?" He brought the handset to the side of his head. "That was fast, Dawn. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just fine. It's practically across the street. I'm driving through the rental car's parking garage… No one has what you want… a lot of compact cars, a few luxury cars… The closest thing I could find is a hover car. There's also a military dump truck with massive wheels; it's in front of the National Guard building out on the corner. We _might_ be able to steal it."

"That's an option but they'll just track us… rent the hover car. That might actually be perfect. I keep forgetting those things are getting really popular." They exchanged pleasantries for another moment then disconnected the call. Conner turned to Karla then walked out of the bedroom. She followed. Out in the living room he knelt down in front of the rack mounted server boxes with Clockwerk's internal components. He turned each one on then set his cellular phone to pairing mode. Unlike before, where verbal passwords were needed, Clockwerk came to life quickly. The cooling fans hummed to life in the back of each unit.

"This is foolish," said Karla under her breath.

"Yeah, well… If I'm a fool then you're a fool for following me into battle with me as your leader. I'm going to get the canes and we'll meet Dawn outside. Go and wake up Penelope and Stephan and tell them that it's _go time_." He gave her a nod then walked out of the living room and through the front door. Beneath the front deck, the two metallic canes were hidden in the canvas guitar bag, half buried in the dirt.

Once outside, he took a deep breath of the humid summer air. The sky smelled of imminent rain. He pushed his paws together and cracked his knuckles then retrieved the canes. He shouldered the guitar bag strap then removed the Nehushtan and gave the rod a slow twirl. He then unzipped a pocket on the front and drew out the chunk of amber and said, "Malus Malum… You'd better work." Cooper cut his gaze back to the shiny bronze cap of the staff. "Not even a hint of tarnish… incredible."

"Who are you speaking to?" The voice belonged to Karla as she teleported adjacently to the raccoon. "I'm ready, they're ready… Clockwerk is ready. I hope that Dawn is ready."

"Yeah," replied Conner, ignoring her question. "I hope the Rental Car place is ready for us to take their vehicle over international boundaries… Actually, it's going to get washed away when we're done with it, heh." He turned his head back to her and grinned. "I'm ready. Let's go."

A pair of headlights approached the property. Conner and Karla walked out to the road and got into the front and back seats respectively. Cooper placed both canes between his knees and leaned back in the seat. "I'm glad you found something."

"There's _six_ miles on this car," she said. "They don't want a scratch on it. But I didn't have enough on me to buy the coverage."

Silvery peels of feminine laughter bubbled from Karla in the backseat. Conner glanced back at her and said, "Yeah, yeah… you belong back there." He cut his eyes back to Dawn and smiled. "They'll never get it back so they won't see a scratch."

She rolled her eyes. "Not dropping it off in a church parking lot this time, huh?"

"Maybe it'll wash ashore somewhere holy – I could give a damn. I'll send'em a cheque. Let's get this thing wet."

"Where are we going?" asked Dawn, her brows raised in concern.

"We're driving out to the dome. Go south. When you get to the beach, I'll get out and get directions. Just… drive. You'll see."

Cooper's phone chirped and vibrated. He took it from his pocket and put it into the leather sheath on the guitar bag's strap that crossed over his torso. He took out a penknife and cut a hole in the holster so that the phone's camera lens lined up with the hole. "What do you want?"

A monotone voice emanated from the phone's speaker. "Your course is highly illogical. Global Positional Satellites with a cross-reference from the GTAP Satellites do not show a feasible access-way for an automobile to arrive at the destination."

"What part of _you'll see_ do you _not_ understand, Clockwerk? I just cut a hole in the holster so you can see… so guess what? You'll see. Now shut up." He eased the phone into its case, clipped to the guitar bag's strap. "Let's go, ladies. Dawn… plot a course, helmsman!"

"Helmswoman," corrected Dawn, putting the car into gear. "It responds better than my old Accord," she murmured as the vehicle began to pick up speed. "Did you say goodbye to your godmother?"

"My fairy godmother is going to get emotional, thinking I'll be the last living person she'll ever see that is from her close circle of friends and family… I don't want to put her through that so I left without a word."

Karla cut in. "He had _me_ go and wake them up."

"Jeeze." Dawn chuckled with a shake of her head. "Don't die or she'll be pissed."

"I told you I wouldn't die. You won't date me if I die," he said, placing a paw atop of her knee. "I promise I'll be fine." After that, no one spoke. They drove for ten minutes until arriving at the beach. Without a word, Dawn drove onto a security access road. In seconds, the pavement disappeared and they were hovering over the sand. The waves crashed angrily against the beach. Dawn eased into the brake with the waves lapping at the front bumper. Conner grinned at her then opened the passenger door and stepped out.

He took off the guitar case, leaving the phone attached to the strap. He then removed the Staff of Moses and walked away from the car. "Back that thing up." He could hear the door chime from having left the passenger door ajar. Dawn backed it up until she was twenty feet from the water. Conner cracked his knuckles again then took a deep breath. In a soft voice, he said, "Please work. We need this." He then turned back towards the car and shouted, "Ask Clockwerk exactly which direction we need to face in order to go straight to this dome!"

After a moment, Dawn shouted out the driver side window. "He says face three degrees to the left and you've got it… just go three hundred miles, give or take twenty-five in either direction, and you'll be there… why?"

Cooper chuckled softly and sighed. "If this doesn't work… I'm going to be really embarrassed, humiliated and at a loss for an explanation. So please work. I'm trying to impress these two girls, Big Guy. But you know I really want this to work so I can save my family. I'm not the religious type and I don't believe in magic or super natural things that are not explainable by some sort of science… but if you're there… and this thing is real… please give me the strength to wield it the way it was intended. I'm ready to finish all of this." He closed his eyes and tightened his paws around the metallic shaft. His heart began to race and he lifted it above his head.

"Should I relax or tense up?" he pondered softly. First he held it aloft but nothing happened. Finally, he clinched his fists at the fulcrum with all of his might then swung it down like an axe. It struck the water, splashing just as raindrops began to fall from the sky. A crack of thunder startled him. His eyes opened, seeing several violent flashes of lightning in the distance. The hurricane was coming. The wind picked up, toying with the waves, causing them to grow aggressive. Part of him wanted to feel despair and disappointment. The other half of him wanted to wait and hope. The wind picked up but oddly blew downwards. It toyed with his fur. The wet sand around him began to show an impression from the force of the wind. The water directly in front of his feet receded. "No effin' way," he whispered to himself. The water continued to recede.

The water pushed to the left and right. He noted that it resembled the way milk separates to the edges of a spoon when blowing gently across it while eating cereal at breakfast. The water separated from the intense downward wind, forcing it to clear a path directly in front of him. After a moment, the headlights of the car bathed his backside, providing a long shadow out into the wet sandy clearing. He turned back towards them with a brilliant smile and, at the top of his lungs, exclaimed, "HOW FRICKING EPIC IS THIS?"

Astonished, Dawn shook her head and simply replied, "Let's go, already. Get in and…" her voice lowered until he couldn't hear it. She turned to Karla and muttered, "Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm going to drive into the ocean. Drowning isn't on my top list of priorities."

"So long as you can swim, I'll teleport us to the surface. But in the middle of a hurricane, I don't know how much good it would do; he's awfully excited, isn't he? I won't lie… for the first time in a _long_ time… I'm scared to death, Dawn."

Cooper came around to the side and opened the door. He slid into the seat and put the cane between his knees, overtop of the bag. He drew out a small device from his pocket and placed it on the dashboard. "This will amplify our reception so Clockwerk can continue to help us once we're way out there. Okay, Dawn… time to take a leap of faith… I wasn't sure this would work, either… so… let's just… do it."

Dawn turned on the windshield wipers to an intermittent setting. "Here goes everything… or nothing." She took a deep breath then floored the accelerator. The sedan lurched forward and rushed into the wet, sandy clearing. Far ahead of them, the ocean continued to force itself apart. The further they drove, the higher the waters appeared to tower over them on the left and right. Several hundred feet back, water began to rush back into place, surrounding them on all sides. "Forget about coming back this way… we won't have enough gas for a return trip."

"We'll worry about that when we get there," said Conner. "It's an underwater city… I'm sure they'll have tons of lifeboats or whatever is their underwater equivalent."

Within minutes, the water towered over them on all sides. The headlights shined on the wall of water up ahead. They could see fish flapping about on the sandy seabed. There were patches of seaweed, coral stones half-burried in the sand and occasional articles of trash. The wind continued to howl down from above, forcing the water to part before them and crash back together behind them.

Dawn steadily increased the speed, approaching seventy-five miles an hour. The angle of the wind changed, forcing the water to part at a greater distance before them. It pushed to the left and right by nearly fifty feet on each side. It all crashed back together like a zipper less than two hundred feet behind the hovercar. They crept up to eighty miles an hour. "If we go any faster," Dawn began, "We might not have enough gas to make three hundred miles."

"For some reason, I think we'll be okay. I mean… we should be dead ten times over, right now. It's like… we have a holy horseshoe in our possession or something."

"I'm flipping out, you two, so don't mind me back here, white knuckles and tense as hell."

Conner cut his gaze back to her. "Just relax. I don't want you to be exhausted five hours from now. The hurricane is going to cover our tracks and any anomaly that Moreau detects can be blamed on a strange wind occurrence… they won't even see the car, let alone _us_. You'll have to teleport us through the glass to the inside."

"I'm fine with that… I'm scared of _this_!" she said, motioning with her paws to the wall of water all around them. "This isn't _normal_! This is _biblical_ crap! I don't get along with bible thumpers! I'm now down with being crushed to death by a hundred thousand some-odd tons of water pressure. We're not in a submarine or up top on a boat… this isn't… Jesus."

Dawn took her right paw off the wheel and reached back, patting Karla's knee. "Hey, it's hard to argue with what's happening… we're not crushed… if Conner had told us that this was his plan… I wouldn't have woken him up. I would have found his alarm clock, turned it off and gone back to bed. But here we are… and … I still can't believe it either… but if the powers that be wanted us dead, we'd have died three years ago… not cutting a swath through the ocean. Here we are… and we're still breathing."

Karla grew quiet, holding the backside of the driver's seat tightly. "I'm not ashamed of being afraid. I just… wish it wasn't _five hours_ of this ahead of us…"

"I anticipated that at least _one_ of us… would be 'sea sick' if you will. So I came prepared."

She cut her glare to Conner. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He reached into his canvas case and withdrew a small green object. He showed it to the confused felox then modeled it to her by turning the object around slowly. He could tell she had no idea what it was. Finally, he jerked his paw forward until the tip of the green object met with her forearm. She gasped at the feel of a pinch then slumped to the right, laid out across the backseat.

Dawn blinked twice. "What the hell did you just do? Did you drug her?"

"Yeah," he replied with a slight grin. "It's one of my godfather's sleep darts. It doesn't look like much more than a small green cylinder at first glance… but if you push it against a subject, the tip is forced out through the ends. It's like… a safety feature. It works really well. She'll be fine."

"And what if _both_ of us were too terrified to go on?"

Conner grinned. "Then I would have gotten a quick _crash course_, pardon the poor taste pun, on how to drive a motor vehicle."

"The gas is the one on the right," she said trying to show a sense of humor. "God I hope that's not the last joke I ever make… it wasn't even a good one." She leaned forward and craned her neck, looking up at the towering water wall that surrounded them. "I wish I had a camera on me… This is incredible."

"When we get there, we're going to hide you in the sewer system. I want you to hack into their systems, figure out the infrastructure then I want you to find out where all the escape boats are… or whatever they're called. We need to find out how many people each one holds, we have a lot of people to rescue if we're lucky. We also have a lot of _stuff_ to take with us."

"We do?"

Conner nodded. "The artifacts, remember?"

"Yeah," she groused. "More work for all of us… We should feed'em to the thermite grenades but… I suppose we can't do that."

"Yeah, no… let's not do that… we've gotten help from this staff… let's not go pissing anyone off; I don't want our good fortune to change, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and announced, "Clockwerk, are we heading in the right direction or should I change by a few degrees?"

The monotone reply came from the bag between Cooper's knees. "Continue your current heading."

She shrugged her shoulders with a nervous chuckle. "Good enough for me. This is going to be a long ride… at least I hope so… I don't want it to end abruptly, that's for sure."

"No kidding," he said in agreement. "That would certainly ruin the day," he joked but wasn't able to chuckle from being so overcome with nervousness and excitement. "If just one staff can cause all of this crazy stuff with the water… just imagine, if you will, all the things that Moreau has already gathered together. He needs to be stopped."

"No one needs this kind of power."

He nodded. "I agree but I have to wonder if this staff isn't just an antenna to increase reception with a being of greater power. That would mean I was wrong my entire life. What if faith really _is_ the right thing?"

"It could be a powerful alien device, Conner… No one will truly know until we die… and then it's still possible that we don't get to know _anything_ when we die. But to be honest… I'm questioning my previous beliefs, too… This is… intense."

He nodded in agreement then looked back out the window, gazing upwards then forwards again. Water spray ran down the windows, leaving small salt-water streaks. "Five hours of driving in a wind pocket… talk about nerve wracking." He then leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. "The sooner we get there, the better off we'll all be – sadly, this is the easiest part of the whole day… just driving for five hours or so."

"Are you going to go to sleep?" she exclaimed fearfully.

"Not if you don't want me to try… I just want to be at my best when we get there. Taking a nap isn't easy right now but… I plan to meditate and get my focus."

Dawn nodded with a sigh. "Okay, hon. Do what you need to do in order to win." She kept her paws glued to the steering wheel and her eyes forward. The windshield wipers rose then fell in cadence. "I wish I could meditate through this trip."

"It's five hours," said Conner. "I'll drive for half of it. It's the best place to learn to get my permit… no other cars around…"

"I… can't believe you're not taking this seriously."

Conner placed a paw upon her knee. "I am. But it's obvious we're not going to die. How far have we gone so far?"

A monotone reply came from Conner's phone. "Thirteen miles."

"Crap," murmured Dawn.

Clockwerk added, "It's three hundred miles to the north east. Perhaps you should ask Niall about the true origins of the Bimini Road – we'll be headed out into the center of the Bermuda Triangle. You're not… nervous are you?"

Cooper lifted the cell phone from its case and thumbed through the contacts then placed a call to Stephan. After the third ring, the skunk answered. "Hey, Stephan… Do you mind if I ask you the truth about the Bimini Road?"

A tired sigh then the skunk replied over the speaker phone with a simple, "I'll deny it if you speak of it publically." A pause, then, "When Atlantis fell from the sky, it broke apart in the air. Not all of it landed in the same place. It was part of a decorated wall. It simply fell west and was carried by the power of a tidal wave. The only reason it was found is because its proximity to a nearby island known as Bimini. It's lay there, under water, for so long that it doesn't resemble anything anymore but it was certainly never a _road_. That's an insult. Atlantis didn't have _roads_. Using technology to do what Karla does naturally, we teleported from place to place and walked about the city for recreation. It was a centralized cultural platform so it was incredibly high above the surface. It was topped with a dome due to the high altitude. The dome held out the sea water after it crashed to the surface and, for a short period, people inhabited the city while it was submerged. In the end, it was dismantled."

"What happened to the parts?" asked Dawn.

The voice crackled over the line then cleared. "Most of it was recycled. The sections that were stone, like the Bimini Wall, acted as decoration because carved stone pieces looked majestic. Most of Atlantis was metallic. It was recycled back into the world – everything from rust all the way to pieces that got melted down and recycled into trinkets. Atlantis lasted several thousand years. I was born there… about two hundred years before it was destroyed. I care not if you believe me – I've answered your question to the best of my ability. Why do you ask?"

"Clockwerk suggested that I ask you," said Conner.

"He knows more than he should," replied Stephan. "Where are you located?"

"We're headed to Atlantis," replied the raccoon with a nervous chuckle. "I supposed you're going to tell me that it went down at the center of the Bermuda Triangle and the surrounding islands somehow had something to do with the original Atlantis, like… five thousand years ago."

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Stephan with a flat tone. "Moreau is there for a reason. If he can gather all the artifacts, he can use them to unearth the domed remains that have come to rest in the upper mantle, about three miles beneath the crust. I theorize that he's seeking archaic technology buried there. It was never meant for today's inhabitants to find. It takes years of understanding this technology to have the maturity to wield it properly. It's best left forgotten."

"This is difficult to swallow," said Conner. "I'm not really a fan of this science fiction crap. Moreau is old. He could die from age any time, now… Unless he's going for immortality, what's the point?"

"My research, along with the secrets of thousands of scientists, are still inside that dome. We couldn't dismantle the _entire_ continent so we recycled most of it and buried the rest. I've once heard that some still live there, sustained by technology to survive. But five thousand years without sunlight is sure to create mutated freaks. It's best that we destroy Moreau, his silly underwater city and leave it alone."

"But he won't be able to read the language, so what's the point of him trying?"

Stephan groaned. "Conner… we didn't _use_ written language. It was too primitive. We used technology to create man-made telepathy. If you wanted to read a book, you simply held the knowledge cube containing the information. It would put knowledge into his head by coming into contact with the library. If either of you were to try and find what he's looking for… I would have someone else come to stop _you_. It's not meant to be found by _anyone_."

"Understood. We'll contact you again, soon." Cooper disconnected the phone then leaned back in his seat. "Do you believe a word of this nonsense?"

Before Dawn could answer, Clockwerk interjected his vocal reply over the phone's speaker. "Fools, he's telling the truth. Your mother and father never found Moreau's secret… but his dome has a telescoping tube that extends into a metal pipe carved into the ground. He can then descend from his dome down into the depths of the planet's crust. Some say he's been digging little by little in an attempt to get to the hidden world beneath. He's used sound to test the density of the crust until having located what's left of Atlantis. Surely he's found it and, by now, he may have accessed the original dome already. The world's best thieves were tasked with finding the artifacts and spreading them throughout the world. Every so often, they would be tasked with re-stealing them so that the commissioning guardians could relocate the pieces. Your family and I engaged in friendly competition… but they became very good at humiliating me over the ages… and I grew angry and jealous. Over time it became personal. At one point, I was tasked with finding and stealing a pendant. The Cooper family came to possess it. They humiliated me for the last time and I declared war on their bloodline. This war predates Slytankhamen the Second. He was known as the builder of the Kane Island vault in the vast South Pacific but not much more."

"You know my family better than I do."

"I do," replied Clockwerk. "Your great grandfather, Otto Van Cooper was the only Cooper I respected out of his ability to fly – he was a skilled fighter pilot and nearly destroyed me. I took out my revenge on his son, Conner. Obviously Sly Cooper named you Conner in memorial to his fallen father. Van Otto was physically the weakest but your father was the least impressive."

"Hey! Screw you, pal. You want to be slag? I'm the emotional one, so don't screw with me."

"I'm stating a fact," replied Clockwerk. "He wasn't the fastest, the stealthiest, the most inventive, the strongest, the most clever, the most intelligent, or anything else that made him unique. He was a jack of all these abilities but a true master at none."

"Yeah," Conner cleared his throat and said, "But he was the only one who took you down _twice_. So while he wasn't the best in any one category, he was still the _best_ Cooper thief because he could do something that no other family member could achieve… wiping the floor with your tail feathers."

"Touché." For some reason Clockwerk's single-worded monotone reply caused Conner to smile.

"How about you be quiet for a while," said Conner, putting the phone back into the case on the guitar bag strap. He leaned back in the seat and shut his eyes. "I need to meditate. Salim al Kupar was the first to put meditation into his daily life… it's been important to two thirds of the family since his time. Watch out for drop offs, reefs, just… anything else. You know what I mean. I think once we get east of the Bahamas it gets real deep real quick." His left paw returned to her knee.

Dawn offered a thin smile and placed her right palm atop of his paw. "Please don't die today," she murmured.

"I got a kiss for surviving in the past," he mused, keeping his eyes shut. "Will you date me again if we live through this?"

"I'll date you _now_ if you promise you'll stay alive." She paused, looking for the right way to word her next statement. "If you stay alive, Karla suggested that I should turn you from a boy into a man… I'm willing. So don't go dying, okay?"

He responded by giving her leg a gentle squeeze of anticipation.

* * *

A/N: _I really was going to leave Clockie out of this story but I DID mention, earlier in the storyline, that whatever was left of Clocks was now sitting in storage under Bentley's lock and key. Now seems the perfect time to pull it out because I've exhausted other feasible means for them to find this dome. Besides, it's a great twist… having the Cooper arch nemesis help the current Cooper family member in order to achieve vengeance against a common foe… but then I posed to myself a question: Would Clockwerk help Conner if he knew that Conner's ulterior motive is to rescue the rest of the Cooper family? So maybe it's best for Conner to withhold that information for now, LOL._

_Boy, we're pretty far in this story, huh? A lot has happened. Again, for anyone who has not yet seen the art of Karla, let me know. I'll email it to you, else you can look up "WhitMaverick – Sleeping Beauty" on either the Deviant Art or Fur Affinity websites. Peter did this piece FREE OF CHARGE just because he enjoys art. It's quite a complex and well-crafted piece of art depicting Karla unconscious in a cryogenic hibernation stasis tube. If anyone remembers back that far into the story, Karla was found with her eyes open, a smug grin and looking rather bushy-tailed. She was frozen that way – why? _

_Remember the last chapter, when Stephan reveals that he wanted her? Well, in the past, he thawed and revived her from the liquid nitrogen… then he put her into proper stasis but not before flirting with her… at the time, still single and whatnot, she was rather receptive to it… He presses the button and she is instantly captured with her eyes open and a flirty smile… Peter Nguyen captures this with meticulous detail. _

_Finally, I've had some PMs with questions about how Karla was frozen and a little insight to the technology. Okay, I'll make this quick for the sake of getting into the story… and I'll make it quick because I'm making this up as I go along, while I write this… The liquid nitrogen canisters, seen in the picture done by WhitMaverick, are used to keep the temperature consistent. It remains around negative 196 Celsius. The tank is filled with gel that solidifies and un-solidifies with electric current. Thus the reason why the characters made a big deal about the machine's unlimited charge power supply unit. However, one cannot just thaw a frozen body without damaging it by pulling the plug. She's officially dead in this state, same as anyone in cryogentic stasis. However, the body and brain do not decompose, allowing someone (in the future) to reanimate them if thawing is done quickly and correctly. Then the person has to be reanimated by having their heart started, etc. The machine was designed to do all of these functions at the press of a button. A tarp was placed over the machine and it was reburied under rubble. Just the same, there's always a serious danger – once dead there's no guarantee that you can be reanimated; if the defibrillation doesn't work then via con Dios! Let's hope that Doctor M. could build a stasis machine as good as Stephan… Conner's entire family is at stake – they're at the mercy of Moreau's technical prowess, right? Are the vitrification solutions proven? There has to be a vitreous state of matter stage so that the cells aren't damaged when being warmed back to room temperature, right? Let's hope Moreau is as big of a genius as we're being led to believe! Then you have to have everything timed right – when first brought out of freezing, your body would be dehydrated – the water inside your body is frozen then warmed rapidly, which could cause evaporation, let alone needing to get that body-flow going again… your body hasn't circulated any fluid in X-amount of time, right? It's pretty complicated science. Cryoprotectants are used to prevent the body's fluids from freezing then being damaged after waking… I wonder if Karla felt sick after her adrenaline wore off… y'know, like on the ride over to Florida. I have a feeling that she would have felt ill for at least a few hours. It was the most dangerous time for her because any of her organs could have failed for any reason. It involves hydrogen bonding in aqueous solutions, which is important for retaining proper protein and DNA function. But it's still something foreign that the body isn't naturally made with… so I'm going to assume that she'd feel kinda crappy until it's naturally flushed. I can bet you that she drank a lot of water on her trip to Florida. I can just imagine her sitting in the airplane bathroom, no equilibrium, nauseas, drinking water, peeing a lot and having a cold sweat. Heh, I bet she was a mess for a while there, before Conner saw her. Glucose and glycerol are good natural cryoprotectants but imagine having all that extra sugar in your system when you wake up? No wonder she had such an adrenaline surge when seeing Carmelita… then she probably crashed like a diabetic, lol. _

_Oh and hey, more than just the Cooper family are at stake here. Bentley, Murray, Sergei, Javari, Kalen, Carmen, Sly, Carmelita, Jing King… and possibly more. I'd have to re-read it just to make sure I got everyone! That's a lot of hostages, huh? Every single one of them are at risk to never wake up. You can just bet that Conner has a lot of worry bottled up. Again, I appreciate you all for reading this story. _

_In the next chapter, we have a lot of stuff about to happen. I don't know how long it will be but… it won't be short, that's for sure. As Karla said earlier the climatic part is about to happen… get excited. Lol._

_-ME_


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: _Someone recently asked if Carmen's red coat and hat came from the idea of Carmen San Diego. Yes, there are certainly similarities there… but NO. It DID NOT! It came from CARMELITA FOX. In Sly 3, "Goodbye My Sweet" the un-lockable movie two-piece short (check it out on YouTube if you've forgotten it), Carmelita begins the first half wearing a red hat and matching long coat. __**That**__ was passed down to Carmen. ^_^_

_I hope that clears things up. Lol. _

* * *

Chapter –**TWENTY-NINE**–

**A yawn then an effeminate squeak**, Dawn brought a fist to her muzzle then rubbed her eyes. "I'm wide awake but for heaven's sake, this is boring. Then again I'm still kinda' in shock over…" she lifted a paw, gesturing to the walls of water. "That… this… all of it."

Karla, still laid out in the back seat, rubbed her own eyes and muttered, "Yeah… I hate feeling groggy. I need something to wake me up all the way."

"I don't have any coffee," said Conner, his eyes still shut. He kept his paws together and concentrated on keeping his heart rate low, as if in a state of rest. "We should practically be there all ready. The sun is starting to come up."

"Yeah," replied Dawn in a tone of agreement. "And now that the rain has subsided you can actually make out the top of the freakin' water wall again. Jeeze that's scary."

"To which I am in agreeance; I should be at myself anon." She sat up with a partial stretch and a grunt. "I'm slipping back into archaic lexicon. Sometimes what I need is a good jog – something to get the heart pumping. That sort of thing always clears me right up, if thou knowest… urf. If you know what I mean. I guess it's still locked in there somewhere."

Conner's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start.

"What?" Dawn glanced over at him.

Cooper pointed forward. "Eyes on the path!" He rolled down the window and glanced out, reaching for the cane that was still in its bag. "Holy crap, what is that thing?"

Dawn glanced out the window, as did Karla. The driver shook her head. "You must have dozed off during your 'meditating' because there's nothing out there."

Without further warning, a bright purple tentacle laced through with a vein of blue swished through the gap as if swinging at them. It splashed back into the water and disappeared followed by another. The tip of the lengthy arm had a diamond-shaped end with dark blue circular sections along the bottom – fleshy suction cups that grasped into the air, looking to gain purchase on something.

"Christ Almighty!" shrieked Dawn. "What is that?" she added, shouting at the top of her lungs.

Conner turned to Karla. "Keep an eye on me… if I fall, you know what to do." He began to climb out the window, headed up to the roof.

Karla, now fully awake and full of adrenaline, climbed into the front seat of the car and turned about. She knelt halfway over the center console and fidgeted with the back seats, trying to pull them down in order to get into the trunk.

"What are you doing?" Dawn asked, somewhat calmer.

"Keep your eyes forward, sweetheart. If he swings, you need to react – just don't make motions that are _too_ sudden or he'll fall and, right now, I can't see him." She drew the seats all the way down and wiggled into the trunk. "I didn't think he would approve so I teleported this from the apartment into the trunk of the car without asking. Just give me a minute."

"Omigod, omigod," whispered Dawn repeatedly.

"Just hush, I've got this under control." Karla wrapped her arms around something then rolled out and climbed back into the front seat. She peered her head up through the window, watching Conner on the roof. He leaned into the wind to keep his footing. "You'd better not lose that cane! Your family will kick your tail!" She then shouted, "I brought something without asking… now's a good time for it!"

"What is it?" he shouted over the roar of the wind. His tail whipped about behind his body. He was partially crouched to one knee. "Unless it's something that goes _boom_, it's useless to me!"

"Yeah, it goes boom!" she called back to him then passed an elongated tube up towards him. "Use it sparingly! I'll pass up ammunition!"

Cooper began to reach for the tube but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw another swinging pass of a tentacle. He leapt forward into the wind, performing a loose somersault. He dropped back to the hood of the vehicle, causing the roof to buckle slightly. He used his cane to cling to the window frame to secure his footing.

Karla quickly mashed down on the buttons for the automatic windows until all of them were down then she shouted back up at him. "Okay, all the windows are down… good use of the cane, kiddo! Now, take this thing and use it sparingly! Time your shots or… something!" She passed the tube upwards again until his paws received it.

Shocked, Conner announced, "Is this what I think it is?" in disbelief.

"Yeah, and it's a cinch to use! Point and fire! Don't screw this up!"

Conner gawked at the Carl Gustav Grg m-48. He checked the hinged breech and saw that it was latched. Attached to the side of the tube there was a laser rangefinder and an electronic image intensification system. He swallowed then hefted the piece up onto his shoulder. To keep it safe, he wedged his cane into his belt on his hip then brought his free paw up to the secondary handle on the front. "I've never… fired one of these things before!"

"It's freaking eighty-four millimeters! So as long as you hit the freak, you'll be fine! Then you unhinge the back section, reload it, re-latch it then fire again!"

"How many spare rounds did you say you brought?" he shouted, kneeling down again.

"I didn't say! I've got a few – not enough to test your accuracy – just make sure you don't miss the first time!" She crawled back from the front seat and began lugging a small bag out of the trunk. Once again, Karla crawled through the lowered rear seat rests and wiggled back into the front seat once more. She pulled the bag into her lap. She opened the end and counted. "Okay, three FFV441's and four FFV551's… One FFV502, I think that one explodes on impact against personnel in the open or something. Okay." She licked her lips then shouted up through the open window. "Some of these are rocket propelled, some of these are lobbed so they don't hit as hard or as fast. I don't know which one is in there already. Then I've got one that just… blows the hell up and it's designed to go all the way into a target before doing so… Let's keep that one for an emergency, okay?"

"Whatever, I don't see him!" shouted Conner. He swiveled his head, watching all around himself. "What the hell was that thing? A squid?"

"Yeah, who the hell knows, just blow it up!" shouted Karla. "You can do it, Captain Nemo!"

"Ahab?" asked Dawn, trying desperately to use a hint of humor to keep her nerves under control.

"No," said Karla. "Nemo fought off squids outside of the Bahamas as well as discovered Atlantis." She lifted a paw and gestured upwards, "That's our boy – Captain Nemo – up there, on the roof. Ahab was the guy who hunted Moby Dick."

Dawn glanced down at her paws on the wheel. White knuckled, showing slightly through the thin fur of her fingers; she loosened her grip somewhat and tried to relax. "That was just one arm… it was _huge_. I'm sure it has way more…"

"Yeah, well… Anyway, Nemo also had priceless art and stuff. Let's just hope Conner is successful as Nemo in the 'hero' department." Karla covered her ears, hearing Dawn shriek again. She looked forward and saw a towering being up ahead, peering out through the water wall as it receded from the steady blast of wind up ahead. Karla blinked at it. "How fast can that thing travel? He's matching our speed… pacing us and what-have-you." She flinched, hearing the rocket launcher fire. A round flew forward, leaving a light smoke vapor in its wake. The round struck the towering squid-like contraption and exploded with a brilliant flash. Karla regained her excitement. "That'a boy! That's the way to do it!" She fished out a round and heaved it up to the roof.

"Stay calm, Dawn," said Karla. "This thing is an abomination of life so far as I'm concerned." She reached for the phone down on the floor between her feet and said, "Clockwerk, we're facing some sort of giant squid creature. What the hell is going on, here?"

"Describe it," came the monotone reply. Karla pulled the phone out of its holster and pointed the camera lens forward, giving Clockwerk a fantastic view of a purple and blue arm. Clockwerk then said, "Crusher. Several decades ago, he inhabited the Caribbean Sea, located just southwest of this location. He's a little out of his roaming area – his presence here is an improbability but not an impossibility."

"Well he's right there, so how do we freakin' beat him?" she demanded.

"Like any creature, physical injury works best."

Karla leaned through the window and shouted, "Keep it up! You have nine total rounds. You just loaded number eight so you've got seven left! Don't waste'em!"

"Yeah, yeah," shouted Conner in reply. "Is that thing seriously keeping up with us at seventy-five miles an hour?"

Karla leaned towards Dawn, glanced at the speedometer then called back up to him. "We've slowed down to forty-five. It increases our reaction time if he swings again. Wait until you see him before shooting… don't go making any guesses!"

"Let me concentrate!" he called back. Up on the roof, Conner quickly brought his left paw to his face and wiped the sprayed water from his fur to keep his eyes dry and clean. He leaned into the wind and waited for another chance. "I'm going to blow a hole right through this thing…" He paused then shouted down to the girls. "Maybe that one round did it or scared him off!"

"Conner!" Dawn shouted up at him. "Don't jinx it! You know if you say that, he's going to…" And with that another tentacle reached for the car. However, this time, it emerged from the wall of water high above them and came down like a hammer, striking the wet dirt directly behind the car. Another arm came down in front of them. The hover car raised up as it passed over the tentacle then dropped again once it was on the other side.

"Okay, okay," hollered Conner in frustration. "My fault, okay? Let's take another crack at this thing!" A monstrous face emerged from the wall of water. Its eye was twice the size of the car, glaring down at him. He rolled onto his back and aimed the weapon straight up.

Karla reached up through the window and grasped his shoulder. "Don't fire it!" she demanded with a firm tone. "If you fire it straight up like that, you'll set the car on fire with its blowback! Just wait…" She glanced up at the enormous head poking out of the water and squinted her eyes. "What the hell is _that_," asked the half-breed. Her paw lifted, pointing at a large metallic cap upon its head. The metal top glinted in the morning sunlight up near the water's surface.

Conner gritted his teeth. "I don't know… but it reeks of Doctor M. Mom told me he controlled living things somehow… maybe I can hit it… it looks too big for you to teleport but maybe you can use telekinesis to better aim the rockets. But how am I supposed to hit that thing if he's above us if I can't fire straight up without damaging the car?"

"Forget damaging the car," she said, adding, "The blowback will shoot a goddamn flame against the roof, which will come in through our open windows… then the upholstery will set on fire… just…" she trailed off, keeping her eyes upwards. "What is he doing? Is he _looking_ _at us_?"

"I have an idea," said Conner. "I'm going to fire a rocket forward. You direct it up and hit him in that smug looking face. Karla nodded so he aimed the rocket forward then fired.

She turned her head and watched it then used her mind to arc its path. The self-propelled rocket headed up in the air then hooked back. Crusher began to draw back into the wall of water. Karla jerked her paws out, throwing the rocket into him before he could get away. It struck and exploded. A splash of water hammered them from above, soaking everyone.

Karla gritted her teeth and clinched her fists. "I don't see blood, guts or body parts… that thing is still out there. This is getting on my _nerves_."

"I hope this thing will fire when wet!" called Conner.

"It'll be fine," she called back. Karla sighed and told Dawn, "I swear. This _thing_ is starting to piss me off. I'll be right back."

"Where're you going?" asked the raccoon, tightening her paws on the wheel.

"You'll see, hon." Karla's eyes lifted, seeing Crusher peek into the wall again. "Damn that thing moves quick in the water." Karla disappeared.

The metallic cap perched upon Crusher's head was approximately the size of an economy automobile. Karla reappeared, standing atop of it. Water spray and a windy downdraft toyed with her wet fur, tail and skirt. She knelt down and tried wedging a finger between the metal base and the massive squid's flesh. She cursed beneath her breath in realization that the unit was surgically attached halfway into the body. "This isn't going to be as easy as simply teleporting this thing, now is it… it _would_ have to be difficult, wouldn't it?" She pursed her lips, keeping a tight hold on the base of the antenna. "Okay… new plan. Let's see…"

A tentacle reached out of the water from directly above her, coming down upon the felox's body. A slimy suction cup caught her on the backside and lifted her into the air. As it pulled her away, she struck her head on the side of the antenna. Karla went limp and groaned, unable to struggle.

The world went blurry all around her and she drew in a deep breath out of instinct. However, it never pulled her back into the ocean. Instead, it lifted her higher into the air. For a brief moment, she could see the shining blue ocean in every direction, sparkling in the soft morning light. To the north, in the far distance, she could barely make out dark clouds. To the south and east, the sky was beautiful as the sun rose from the horizon. Her vision cleared but she still struggled to regain her motor skills.

With all coordination gone her limp body hung from the suction cup. Her tail swayed between her legs coming into view only to disappear again. Her skirt billowed in the wind and her legs dangled back and forth like a toy doll swung about by an angry child. Far below, she could barely make out a tiny, shiny black dot… The car. It was centered in the wind pocket created by Conner's newest stick.

Another purple arm lifted from the brine and, over the roar of the wind and water, she barely made out a shout. Her eyes rolled to the left, watching as the new arm moved adjacent to the one that held her. She blinked, seeing Conner in its grasp. The tentacle wrapped all the way around his body like a massive snake, squeezing the life out of him. He lifted his paws, banging his fists on the fleshy appendage that coiled fully around his torso and legs. Another sigh escaped Karla's lips. "…Crap," she whispered.

The wind began to settle; she realized that the monster, as well as the car and the wind pocket below, were all coming to a stop. Karla squinted, unable to make out much more than a black dot of the car beneath her dangling legs.

"This… thing," shouted Conner with a disenchanted tone, "Is sapping my energy… it's like…" He continued to struggle but from the looks of things, it was a losing battle.

The tentacle folded in around Karla's torso and legs, beginning to squeeze. Finding it difficult to breathe, Karla began to struggle in an attempt to get breathing room but Crusher responded by living up to his namesake. The other tentacle brought Conner somewhat closer, only fifteen feet away. Her body ached but the pain began to fade, as did everything else. Her breathing slowed but she continued to struggle in order to keep circulation going in her body. She lifted her paws then brought them down on the fleshy arm snaked around her body like a Boa Constrictor.

Karla's eyes lowered as a tinge of depression overcame her. Something caught her eye. A shimmering flash of light… it began to grow closer. She blinked then squinted. "Oh…God." Karla took a deep breath then with all of her might as weary as she now felt she called over to Conner. "Dawn fired a rocket propelled grenade… hold on tight." She cut her gaze back down, watching the wavering rocket. With the last of her strength, she focused on the shiny little dot of light and telekinetically directed it into Crusher's face.

Enraged and startled, the monstrosity released both Karla and Conner from its grip. Wind rushed through her fur and clothes. Freefall, she headed for the shimmering blue plain. As Karla fell away from her captor, her energy returned. She felt reinvigorated by the fresh dose of adrenaline that coursed through her form. Seconds before striking the water, her body disappeared.

She reappeared high above the ocean, looking down to get her bearings, then disappeared once more only to return to the passenger seat of the car. Karla stuck her head up through the window, trying to locate Conner. Her eyes widened…

Conner Cooper sailed gently down with a blue and white parasail open behind him. He worked the control ropes and came about. His feet brushed against the wall of water, creating a line in the water wall. He came about then sailed back down towards the car. Just beneath him, Crusher's head popped back through the waves, once more.

The raccoon disappeared from view. The felox opened the door then looked back up at the car. She could see Dawn working on loading another round. "Wait up, Conner is on that thing's head!"

Ecstatic, Dawn glanced down at Karla and screeched in delight. "You're alive!" Both of them lifted their gaze back up at Crusher just in time to see his body jolt wildly. A magnificent blue flash enveloped his form. The water waves all around them shimmered with the arc of electricity that coursed through it.

A plume of thick smoke poured from atop of Crusher's head and the water around them belched another splash that drenched both girls. The splash of water hit with such force it knocked them both to their backsides. Dawn slid down onto the hood of the car while Karla found herself half-pressed into the wet sand.

A shout of fear caught both their attention. Karla squinted, seeing Conner fall head over feet, spiraling down from high above. He lacked the control necessary to open his parasail again. He spun wildly end over end as he fell from a lethal height. There was no longer any sign of Crusher.

Karla threw her arms up and he disappeared. Conner reappeared, velocity and all, directly above the hover car. He slammed into the roof, mashing it down to the headrests. Having broken his fall, he emitted a low groan, lying in the enveloping wet metal.

Dawn scrambled up the windshield and came to him. "Conner! Oh my _God_, Conner!"

Cooper lay on his back, legs and arms spread out, his cane still in his belt, leaving it's own indentation in the metal as well. He groaned again then cut his gaze down at her feminine figure. "Ow," he murmured, adding, "Wow." Dawn's hourglass figure was silhouetted against the background of the sunrise high above the wall of water. She looked like the shadow of an angel. "Dawn…"

"Conner, thank _God_ you're alive!"

Karla, standing on the ground adjacent to the car, wrung out her wet blouse with a grunt. "What did you _do_ to that thing, boy?"

Cooper drew in a slow breath, groaned one more time then said, "I tried to fry the receiver up atop that thing's head."

"I think you _electrocuted_ the hell out of the thing," replied the half-breed, shoving a wet, tangled mess of blonde over her right shoulder. "Jesus, how much further is this damn place?"

Dawn, taking Conner's paw and gently helping him to sit up, said, "We _must_ be close if we're fighting against brainwashed sea creatures. Obviously that thing was a defensive measure."

Karla's ears perked. She opened the passenger door and reached down into the gap beneath the buckled roof. She leaned in, groping for the cell phone clipped to the bag's strap in the front seat. "Hold on, Tin-Head is trying to tell us something." She picked up the phone and announced, "We're listening."

"This phone's built in Wi-Fi receiver is picking up multiple access points at the edge of it's receiving range. We're within a stone's throw of the dome."

Karla furrowed a brow then looked up at Dawn and Conner. "We're here, guys. We're within two thousand feet or so."

Clockwerk added, "Within thirty-five hundred feet. The wall of water is creating a tunnel that captures floating signal and directs it… Continue forward a little more than half a mile… but go at a slower pace than your previous speed of thirty meters per second."

Conner climbed off the roof with a grunt of pain. He slid down to his feet then hobbled away from the group, softly chanting, "Walk it off, walk it off…"

"This is it, then," murmured Dawn. She noticed that Conner was walking away from the car, heading in the general direction of the dome. She slid off the front of the car, reached in through the still-open passenger door and retrieved the second cane.

Karla picked up the Carl G, shouldering the tube. She then grasped the top of the satchel and followed the other two. The pocket of air followed them forth and, within a moment, the car was swallowed into the water. Minutes later, an enormous glass structure emerged from the wall of water. The felox hurried to catch up to Dawn and Conner. "That thing is _huge_… Suddenly the water walls don't seem quite so bad."

Conner, still limping, tightened his jaw. "I guess we start walking the perimeter until we find some bay doors." He fished out a bottle of Advil from his pocket and dry-swallowed the three remaining pills

"Don't be a dumbass," said Karla. "That will draw attention. Hold on one second." She opened the sack of ammunition and drew out the last four rounds. She then began teleporting one at a time. She breathed calmly in a state of hyper focus. Two of the rounds reappeared in front of her. A pause…

Conner rubbed his chin and asked, "What happened to the other two?"

"They're gone. I found a safe place to teleport. Let's go." She disappeared first. Next, Dawn. Finally, Conner closed one paw around his family cane, still wedged in his belt. His other paw tightened over a shoulder strap of the knapsack full of supplies and thermite grenades. He disappeared.

They all appeared inside a sewer. One of the rounds was sticking out of the wall while another one was half-buried in the floor, next to Dawn's right shoe. Karla sighed, relaxing her body. "I couldn't retrieve those two pieces once they were completely merged into the bulkhead and deck. They're permanent now. It's a good way to test where the air pockets are before sending a living person…" The two remaining rounds from outside appeared. She gathered them, loading one into the tube and placing the other into a satchel.

Dawn rubbed the side of her face. "I'm glad you volunteered yourself first before pulling us inside… Well, it looks like we're all here and wholesome. Let's get our bearings straight and figure out a plan of attack." A groaning sound from behind the walls startled everyone.

"What the hell was that?" asked Conner in a low voice.

The monotone reply of Clockwerk startled all of them a second time. "It was the sound of water rushing up against the outer hull of the dome. The pocket of air is now most likely closed."

"That… makes sense." Dawn offered a partial and rather nervous sort of smile. Her expression quickly faded taking the serious atmosphere into account. She glanced about then approached a faded sign. She wiped the grime off then glanced over her shoulder with a dulled look upon her visage. "It was _originally_ 'yellow'." She wiped her fingers over the impressions of the lettering then flicked the dark sludge onto the nearby wall. "It says _Junction Panel 'D'_ here, which is a good place to start."

"Start…what?" Karla glanced at Conner who appeared to know what was going on. She then wrapped her arms around her stomach, crisscrossed, holding her hips. "We should dry off."

"They'll probably have some sort of maintenance box running to control this stuff. It _needs_ to be computer regulated. There will be a satellite unit to process all the sensors in the area then a main computer that we'll refer to as… the mainframe. That one typically connects to one I like to call the 'brain'. Once I get into the satellite unit, I'll be able to get into the mainframe, which means I can take a stab at the brain."

Cooper frowned. "But this place is, like, older than you, Dawn." He rubbed the base of his neck then pushed his paws into his soggy pockets. "Seriously, how will you know what operating system they're using, let alone be able to hack in or whatever?"

"I can power around with both Unix-like _and_ Dos-based systems so… relax. Besides, they probably have something unique that will remain virus free of all outside connections knowing our luck."

Karla rubbed her forehead then dropped her paws at her sides in frustration. "Let's just get dried off. Dawn, you'll be staying down here while Conner and I clean house. See if you can get into the _security_ or something."

"It's probably on a different domain. We'll see – right now I'm just going to try and see what's going on."

"What about communication?" asked Karla. She placed the rocket launcher against the wall and the remaining round in the bag adjacent to the piece. "For you," she added, nodding to Dawn.

Conner pulled out his phone and gave it a gentle shake. Clockwerk protested with a string of vituperative words, uttering something about wanting vengeance for such humility – no one paid his quiet rant any attention. Cooper smiled and said, "Dawn, same frequency?"

She nodded. "I already downloaded the application for the closed circuit phone contact. Remember, the limit is three miles. This place is big and I'm not sure if it's more than three miles but if you go out of range…"

"I know, I remember. We lose contact. Okay. I'm ready." He brought a paw up and touched his ear. The fur around his ear and on the side of his face camouflaged the earpiece. "I'm ready. And hey…" He approached her, placing his paws on either side of her face then drew her into a soft kiss.

Karla grinned, watching them for a moment. "That's hot. But really guys we should dry off. There's no use leaving wet foot prints everywhere – it becomes evidence that someone is snooping around where they shouldn't be… it kills the whole 'stealth' thing."

Conner eyed her for a moment then cut his eyes back to Dawn. He broke the kiss then took the canvas guitar case from her shoulder. He opened it, removed the second cane then took the first one out of his belt. He laid them up against the wall side by side. He then dug down to the bottom of the case and withdrew three pairs of camo-pants, boxers and two sets of panties, two bras – one significantly larger than the other – and three button-up shirts. Even in the dim lighting, it was obvious that the camouflage pattern was dark gray over black. "I got your measurements from Stephan, Karla." His eyes cut to Dawn, "And you… I asked you in your sleep the other night…" He grinned.

Dawn lifted a single finger and swished it through the air as if making a marking on a scoreboard. "One point – Conner. Bring'em with you." She followed the sign down the subterranean corridor until finding a junction panel then turned right and walked through the muck. Conner and Karla followed. Up ahead was a locked door. Cooper had both canes, the clothes, and the half-folded canvas bag in his arms.

Karla set down the metallic tube and ammunition sack then pushed by Conner and Dawn. She tapped her knuckle against the door with a hollow sound reverberating through the metal surface. She teleported the weapons, causing them to disappear then reappear. She then disappeared. After a moment, Karla unlocked the door and swung it open. "Cramped to hell in there… nearly lost my elbows, so be careful." She stepped out, held the door and let Dawn through. Karla lifted a paw to Conner. "You won't both fit. It's literally that small."

Dawn called back to them. "This is it! And it's UNIX based!"

Karla peered into the small room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's an O.S. developed at Bell Labs in the late sixties by some guy you've never heard of."

"Try me," she persisted.

"Ken Thompson."

Karla shrugged. "Okay, you're right. I don't know him. So it's really old, will that be a problem?"

"I've already got the command line prompt, give me a minute. I don't remember all the commands by heart so I've got to look them up." Dawn paused and began typing. "I learned UNIX on a Mac ages ago, but this one is a ported version of KDE set for this non-commercial Unix variant. It's like the KDE seen on Linux but two differences. One, it's way older than the modern version of KDE and two… this isn't Linux. It's much closer to a _true_ UNIX system. The rest of what I know about UNIX I learned on Windows Power Shell."

Karla sighed. "If you're not going to speak in a way that makes sense to us then just save it."

"So this is like Solaris?" asked Conner.

"No, far more advanced than Solaris, but essentially more simplistic. It's not full of bells and whistles – it's just a shell with a graphical user interface, namely the KDE, and it's running on a commercial-grade non-commercialized UNIX operating system. It's a huge hassle but I'm glad it's not something I've never seen before so…"

Cooper glanced to the frustrated felox back to Dawn. "Are you going to be okay here? Are you going to be safe?"

"Oh! Oh, look! It _is_ on the same domain!" The excitement in her voice caused Cooper and Karla to lean into the doorway. Dawn continued, telling them, "I can access the security feed from here! And this monitor will do nicely. It's easily twenty-eight inches; I can open a few security footage panels and continue to work in the command prompt. Conner, it _does_ run on a Monolithic-like Kernel, just like Solaris, though. It's based on Darwin, a free BSD UNIX OS released by Apple ages ago but without the NEXTSTEP. It's a Hybrid Kernel like MAC started using almost thirty years ago. In fact, Darwin was released by Apple back during Y2K – anyway, they designed it this way to work with both the microkernel and the performance of a monolithic kernel, so it's a hybrid and will work well with multiple CPU architectures – these guys probably have non-commercial processors that never saw the light of day up on the surface so they're using this free engine to make a variation of their own Operating System."

Karla folded her arms. "I'm wet, I'm cold… you're babbling. I'm stealing your boyfriend now." She turned to Conner and pointed away from the office. "Let's move. It's cold, dank and nasty down here for those of us who are soaked to the bone. I'm growing frustrated and miserable. Go, go, go." She gestured with a downward waving of her paws as though shooing small children. "C'mon, go."

"Let's all get dressed, first." He lifted his arms, holding all the stuff then knelt on the floor, laying out everything on the canvas guitar case so it was nice and organized.

Karla and Dawn picked up their undergarments then the pants, long-sleeved button-up shirts and finally… Karla asked, "We need a hat to hide my hair if you're trying to keep us in the shadows."

"We'll try and find one from a guard or something. Let's get out of these wet clothes and change quickly. Maybe, if we're lucky, we can figure out some sort of plan involving the possibility of guard duty shift change."

Karla wiggled out of the skirt. It plopped on the ground, leaving a puddle. She then removed her top and her bra without shame. Her eyes flitted from Dawn to Conner then she shrugged and stretched. "You didn't think to bring towels, I'm sure… wet fur, dry clothes… figures." She opened her stance, leaned over, tail lifting up and out… then she shook hard, spraying the walls with water.

Dawn was next. She shrugged off the notion of insecurity and unbuttoned her pants. She wiggled her hips and used her paws to force them down her wet legs then kicked them off. She ran her fingertips through her fur until locating the partially hidden waistline of her thong then she eased it down until it was bunched up between her feet. Next her shirt and bra went to the floor. "Yeah, I guess towels would be ideal." She drew in a deep quick breath, doubled over and opened up her stance then shook wildly in the doorway.

Conner swallowed. "This is _really_ awkward, you two… I could have just turned around – we all could have just turned away from one another."

"Aren't you modest," said Karla with a roll of her eyes. "Your turn." She cut her attention over to Dawn and grinned. Dawn was quick to notice Karla's gesture and looked to Conner who appeared beyond nervous. "Oh goodness – seriously, Conner. Take it off; we're professionals, right?"

"…Still awkward," he muttered. "Can't you two… like, turn away or something?"

Dawn turned to Karla then nodded. Karla shrugged in reply then waved her left paw outwardly. Conner's shirt disappeared. She waved her right paw and his pants disappeared, leaving him in drooping wet boxers.

"Okay, okay!" he growled, trying his best to refrain from raising his voice. "Why are you two just… looking at me like that?"

"Because we're amused," said Dawn.

"Maybe _you_ are amused, honey but I'm tickled pink." Karla grinned.

Conner took off the boxers and threw them at Karla. "First of all, you're a _mother_ and someone's _wife_. Second of all, we're in the belly of the beast, here. We're in mortal freaking peril, here. And you two are …playing stupid games. What the hell – I'm here to rescue my family and try to stop this guy from putting the last nail in _all_ of our coffins. The _least_ you two could do is try to be professional, here! Who gives a goddamn about who is naked, okay? Let's get our work done!"

Dawn looked down with a tinge of shame. "You're right, Conner. I'm sorry. It's just… the tension is so thick that… sometimes the most natural thing one can do is to force oneself to relax and go with the flow, so to speak. You're right – this is a serious situation and I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or…"

"Oh can it," interrupted Karla. "You wanted to see his naked ass, too, Dawn." She turned to Conner, tossing the wet boxers from her shoulder. "And so did I. And Conner, lighten up. You're standing in the buff in front of two outrageously gorgeous women who are _also_ in the nude. We're in a safe pocket in the basement beneath a fake city and nobody has a _clue_ we're here. We still have the element of surprise, everyone is going to walk out of here safely when this is all done… and all three of us are _finally_ naked, together. C'mon team. You know you guys have been waiting for this moment since we all started working together. The least you guys can do is _thank_ me for making it happen." She preened, flickering her tail. "Enjoy it, Conner." Karla brushed passed him then gave Dawn a generous hug. "See, Conner? Fantasies really do come true. You know you've thought about it at least _once_. C'mon, baby."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he shook hard to reduce the moisture in his fur. He wrapped his tail around his waist, mostly to hide any indication of being aroused. "I don't know what you're talking about. I only have eyes for Dawn." His gaze cut to the remaining clothes that were lying atop of the canvas guitar bag laid out on the metallic deck. "This is just… you're being obnoxious, Karla."

"Oh, hush, Conner. Now's your chance to ravage us both before you save the world." Her tone was jesting but her eyes gleamed. She released Dawn but stood adjacent to the raccoon female, arm around the girl's waist.

Cooper blushed brightly and reached for his boxers and pants. "I'll… pass. Thanks but no thanks. If you weren't here, I'd consider it with just Dawn and myself… seriously, I'm in love. Can't you respect that?"

"We'll _both_ love up on Dawn, or her and I can tag-team you. Or you and her can tag team me," she paused after the last suggestion and waggled her brows.

"Karla!" Conner snapped, glaring at her. He swallowed back his rage so as not to shout. "Yes, I would bang the living hell out of you, but two things are really keeping that from happening… one, I _only_ want Dawn and two, you're _married with children_. Give it a rest!" He placed a foot into his boxers then the other and shimmied the fabric up his legs, looking nervous and out of place by Karla's sudden forward advances. "Just… please. I'm ready to fight, not have sex." He tilted his head and, trying to look humble and able to 'take a joke', he said, "Besides, there's no way a virgin like me could handle _both_ of you. Just… c'mon, please? Can we stop embarrassing me, here?"

Dawn began to dress and, in a soft voice, said, "Karla, c'mon, just leave him be, hon. He's a little on the _pure_ and _innocent_ side. Who knows? Maybe that's why he's able to wield the artifacts that he has the way he does… Just drop it, please?" She clasped the back of the bra, pulled her pants on, cuffed the ankles then buttoned up her shirt and tucked it in. "There's time for flirting, joking and embarrassment later on, when we're all home and safe, right?"

Karla rolled her eyes and began to get dressed. "And if one of us die? You'll _wish_ you took the opportunity to…"

"Enough!" Conner, frustrated, pushed his paws down the front of his pants to tuck in his shirt and to adjust himself so as not to appear convinced by Karla's charms. "Besides, I have to be in the mood to fool around… right now, I'm in the mood to level this place, okay? It's a symbol of all my pent up anger and regret over the last three years… all realized into one huge… fortress… thing. It would be _weird_ to lose my virginity in it right before I destroy it, you know? Just… hurry up and get dressed. We'll find you a hat of some sort, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," said the felox, gesturing to Conner with her middle finger. "I know my actions aren't 'lady like' but we all have our demons, right?" She pushed her legs, shoes and all, into the pants, just as everyone else had done… then she fidgeted with the bra. "Hey, Conner, get your tail back here and help me clasp this."

"Karla!"

"Okay, okay," she said with a dry chuckle. "Persistence is one of my strengths, alright?" The half-breed feline-vixen toyed with the clasp for another moment then went for her shirt, buttoning it all the way up to the collarbone. She ran her fingers back through her hair then said, "Sea Salt strands, separated into stringy sections of…" She lifted her eyes while fixing the lay of her new outfit. Dawn and Conner were, in a sense, glaring at her. "What? I get a little hyper when I'm gearing up to fight. Remember Finland? Keri said I was in rare form that day, too. That's par for the course. Just give me a break." She gave the wet clothes on the ground a swift kick. "Let's go, Conner. Lead the way."

Dawn wrapped her arms around Cooper, kissing him without warning. She went so far as to push her tongue into his mouth and he accepted. After a moment, he relinquished her kiss and whispered something into her ear. She shivered, nodded and brought a paw to her muzzle. "Okay, go… I love you."

"I love you, too." He offered her a genuine smile. "No worries. I'll be back, this time. No dying."

"No dying," she repeated.

"Damn you two are hot when you're all emotional. Kiss again, c'mon. Rawr." Karla grinned.

Dawn cracked her knuckles. "Go on, Conner. I'm going to get acquainted with the abilities of this processor and see what it can do – the shell is laid out well and the kernel appears stable enough for me to write a hacking program that will cause a multi-task background application to run behind the scenes, so to speak. I think it might do what I want without lag – this should be fun. I'll be watching your progress!" She stepped back into the small room with the computer and the Carl G. and closed the door, locking it.

Conner raised a brow and hurried back to the main corridor. He made a right and Karla followed. The pair walked through the dimly illuminated area in silence for several minutes before he finally told the felox, "When she starts talking about the differences in Kernels and Processors, I just loose it."

"I don't even know what that crap is. Popcorn and a food mixer, so far as I'm concerned."

"The very core of both _software_ and _hardware_ respectively," he replied. "No use explaining – just know that she's excited because it means she can actually help us instead of sitting there with a thumb in her plum, scratching her forehead. And believe me, I'm glad she's excited because I could _really_ use her help."

"Fair enough," murmured the half-breed. "Let's get up on the street level or whatever." She approached a ladder and ascended it. She heaved a manhole cover up with her shoulder then lifted her head, trying to peer through the gap. Silence. She called down to Cooper and told him, "It's a ghost town, here. It's a street but no cars are coming. They even have traffic signals up the way but the yellow lights are flashing… It must be like the middle of the night in their time zone… or something. Whatever, I'll buy into it. Let's do this."

Cooper came up the ladder with his two canes. Once he was up on the street, he put the ancient staff into the holster and gave his family's scepter a familiar twirl. "Let's kick some ass, then." He nodded to a tall building at the center of a cluster of what appeared to be skyscrapers. "That's a good place to start in my opinion."

"Agreed." Karla glanced about herself. "It looks like an average city. Creepy. Look at _that_ building," she said, pointing to one of the taller spires three blocks in and one block to the left. "Art Deco, like… it was built to look slightly dated or something. And… since we're out in the ocean, do we say the building is on the left, or do we say it's to port?"

Conner looked around, thought about the question then said, "There's no clear aft – I'm going to say 'left' is fine." He paused then added, "Where's the army? The guard or even the police force that's supposed to stop us?"

"See?" Karla smirked. "We could have fooled around all day and no one would have noticed."

He looked away. "…Stop."

She gave him a playful shove. The two continued up the street. They moved to the sidewalk and moved further away from the far glass wall. The buildings in their area went from industrial looking to commercial looking. Conner glanced back at her, asking, "Where are all the residential looking parts?"

"On the other side, I guess. That's probably for the best… It's less likely someone will notice us right away." She reached behind herself, playing with her hair by bunching it up into a ponytail then dropping it all together. "Maybe I should get a French Braid, huh?"

"Focus?"

"On what? It's freakin' dead here. Maybe this is all that remains and everyone is gone."

Conner deadpanned. He drew in a deep breath then exhaled just as dramatically. "Smell that? It's not stale air. Someone has to maintain what we've seen so far."

"Computers and plants – it's _too_ fresh. I don't smell smog or anything."

"Maybe their cars are designed with an 'indoor' world in mind. C'mon Karla, think."

"Well, let's see…" She trailed off with a paw to her chin. After a moment, she said, "I suppose there's no need for anyone to be up if it's night by their standards, because there's no need for night work, since they're not keeping up with the rest of the world. If that's the case, it's to our benefit because we can come in, shut it all down and sneak back out. I will admit that it's awfully dark right now. We need to find a public clock. That'd be a great place to start."

"Sure thing." They continued to amble down the road, side by side, in the darkness. Unlike the topside world, the skyscrapers of this city lacked intermittent flashing lights on the rooftops. The heart of the city was dark save for various streetlights and blinking traffic signals. There were a mere handful of illuminated windows on the large downtown buildings. The city was silent. Conner tucked his cane into belt of his harness so that it was crisscrossed with the other staff. "This place is badass. Depending on what people are wearing for fashion… it might not be too difficult to just… blend in."

"Supposedly this place is a perfect world for the families of Doctor M's minions to grow up, go to school, get a job in fast food and …what the hell do they serve, Conner?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's no rural areas. No place for corn, soy, tomatoes to grow… No places to slaughter animals or grow wheat… so is the sandwich obsolete, here?"

Cooper quirked a brow at her. "I'm sure they mostly eat fish, crabs, and genetically simulated foods. Any one of those industry complexes we saw back behind us will create synthetic grain and yeast for making bread. Who knows, maybe they have underground farm fields in a layer beneath the sewer system."

She poked his shoulder and said, "Their sewers don't stink, either. Do they not process waste? Maybe they just flush it straight into the ocean."

"A city-worth of crap being dumped into very crystal-clear blue ocean waters would draw attention, Karla. Just relax. I'm sure we'll find out everything we need to know soon enough. Let's just find Moreau, tan his hide and find my family then leave just as quickly and quietly as we can."

"Sure… we need a faster method of transportation. Let's find one." She hooked a thumb at a car on the side of the road. "You drive, Conner?"

"No. Can you hotwire?"

"No." Silence.

After a moment, Clockwerk's monotone voice sounded over the phone clipped over Conner's chest. "You're both imbeciles. Karla Chintzy can teleport herself; Coopers usually run along the rooftops and high-tension wires above the city. Your best bet is to locate a motorized vehicle, teleport it into the air and throw it into the building where Doctor M is presumed to dwell. Do not show your faces but create the façade that you're ten times larger than you really are. Psychological warfare has been used by most modern armies at one point or another, as well as modern terrorists. All you're doing is masterminding what happens to create panic."

"Stealth, you moron," scolded Conner. "Lead us when you have something useful to offer. Until then, shut the hell up." He lifted a paw, pointing at a bus coming up the next intersection. An illuminated panel above the windshield read, "Downtown" and the bus approached them. He took Karla by the wrist and walked her over to the bus stop.

"We don't have fare you idiot," she murmured.

"It's possible they don't even need to use currency here. Let's play stupid; let them think we're drunk."

"I have a _much_ better idea," said Karla. She snatched her forearm from his paw then grabbed _his_ wrist. "This way." She walked behind the bus stop and, when the bus came to it to let off one tired-looking person, she guided Conner around the back behind the bus. Before it started moving forward again, she teleported both of them onto the back of the empty bus. Only two passengers were left, one at the front and one sleeping in the middle. Both of them crouched down and sunk into adjacent seats near the back.

"Good deal," Conner said quietly.

Karla preened again, "Thank you, thank you. I know I'm amazing." She grinned then leaned back in the chair and relaxed, crossing her ankles. "Dawn is probably just as safe up here as anywhere else. I wonder if there's a point to this hole place."

"I guess we'll find out." Conner clasped his paws together, twiddling his thumbs. "I bet she's tired from driving all night, though."

"Yeah, well, had Keri been here, they could have done shifts."

"Oh well." He sat up a bit, looking out the window. "It's amazing how much this place looks like any city elsewhere in the world. I admit, though, this bus is _really_ quiet. It's definitely not diesel."

"Agreed." Karla fidgeted in frustration. "This is _boring_."

"Maybe it's the calm before the storm, Karla. Just… keep your pants on."

In a snide, quiet voice, she murmured, "Yeah, cause you _know_ I'd much rather have them off." She slouched back in her seat, looking bored to tears. "At least around you and Dawn. It's hot watching you guys make out. Until I was pregnant, I never really cared to watch someone else do that sort of thing. Now light porn isn't so bad. Strange how a woman's body chemistry can change, huh?"

"You're easily the most offensive person I've ever met," he replied. The bus rolled to a halt a single block from the tallest building in the dome. Karla teleported them onto a bus stop bench on the sidewalk then turned to Conner. "By the way… now that I've seen you in the buff, I have to say… you should be proud – there's no need for modesty anymore, Conner."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't think your advances are to flirt, anymore… I think you're just trying to make me feel uncomfortable."

"Your mother is a fox, right? So you've got a knot?"

"Karla!" He glared at her. "Enough! Seriously enough – no more locker room talk for the rest of this mission. You _really_ need to get laid. When we get out of here, call Winthrop."

She huffed in disdain. "He doesn't get so much as a _wink_ until _HE_ apologizes to _ME_. He's lost that privilege until further notice. He won't even talk things out, the douche bag."

Conner glared at her for a minute then simply said, "You really fit into modern society well. I can't even tell you used to be a prim, proper lady back in the Middle Ages."

"Good, I despised that chauvinistic hell. I like to screw and drink and fight and on weekends get visitation and play mommy for a while. Do you think I want my kid to grow up to be just like me? _That_ is scary. And so far as your snide little comment about needing to get laid… I just did, recently."

"I thought you said you _didn't_ go 'all the way' with Stephan?"

Karla paused. Initially she had referred to someone else on their 'team' but, now, she realized that she had a way out of the new hole she'd just dug for herself. The young woman cleared her throat and said, "I fibbed. Actually, I only said that because I never gave him the chance to actually get off… _I_ got off just fine and that's all I needed. But, for Chri'sake, I'm genetically designed to want to mate often… Once or twice a week is _not_ often. Twice a _day_ is acceptable but average at best."

"Well don't look at me," he retorted. Conner stood up from the bench and began to walk up the street. Karla quickly followed him. The raccoon lifted a paw, casually. "What if he's not in there?"

"Then we search for him," she exclaimed boisterously. "And when we find him, we rip him apart limb by limb."

"Nice." Conner reached for the handle and tugged. It was locked. An instant later, he found himself, arm outstretched as though reaching for a door handle, standing in the middle of the vacant lobby. He blinked then dropped his paw. "I'll never get used to your abilities."

"Thanks." She gave him a firm swat on the ass then sauntered into the middle of the room. She stopped directly beneath a chandelier and twirled on her right toe. "This place is fantastic. Very classy atmosphere."

"Yeah? Then why are you here?" Conner grinned.

"Oh, you're _real_ cute," she told him with a smirk. At the end of the hall an elevator panel lit up, followed by a musical 'ding!' The doors slid open and the hulking frame of a canine stepped off. Karla gasped, recognizing the man.

Conner gritted his teeth. "J. Cunningham," he said, remembering the small white print on the black combat boot – the last memory etched into his mind before everything went dark, three years ago. "Remember me? Riverview, just outside of Tampa, Florida? You took _this_," he said, withdrawing his family's cane, "And you shoved it right through me… I'm back for a rematch."

"Let me take care of him," said Karla.

"No!" he exclaimed. "You back off. He's mine. I've earned this rematch, Karla. Stay out of it. Make sure nobody joins unexpectedly."

She groaned. "Fine, you ass… I'm _bored_, damn you."

Cooper ignored her and cracked his knuckles. "I've been waiting a _long_ time for this." He grinned brightly. He then withdrew the other staff and tossed it to Karla. His eyes slid back to the bulky man. "I harbor so much hatred and anger towards you… You can't even begin to understand how much I despise you. Do you even know who I am?"

"The Cooper brat," he replied. "I don't know how you got down here but you're royally screwed now, chump." He touched a button on his belt, sounding a silent alarm.

Over the earpiece, Conner heard Dawn say, "Someone activated an alarm in the downtown sector. I'm getting into that surveillance now… oh _Christ_." Her tone turned. "Conner, get the hell out of there! That's the guy from three years ago! Hurry! Why are you just standing there?" She sounded panicked.

Cooper cracked his knuckles. "It's time I returned the favor. Don't worry, I know personally that it doesn't hurt as much as you would think. And what pain you _do_ feel only lasts for a few moments then it's all over."

"You talk a good game kid, just like your old lady… But she doesn't talk back anymore, if you know what I mean."

The raccoon's paws clinched into fists around his cane. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his gaze darkened over with hatred. He gritted his teeth, his body was suddenly high from adrenaline. His left ear flickered and his nose curled up as he snarled in anger. Dawn's pleas went on deaf ears. Conner growled the words, "I'm busy so I'll make this _quick_." The family cane illuminated with an ethereal glow.

"Whatever, kid. At least this time I'll finish the job the _right_ way." He charged, fists drawn.

Conner broke into a sprint, heading towards the hulking man, his cane at the ready. They met directly beneath the chandelier. Muggshot's brother threw a punch, which met the center of the Cooper cane.

A displaced electrical charge was sent into the man's fist, throwing him to the floor with a high power jolt that caused his muscles to tighten. He scrambled away, woozy and dazed. The man stood up, picked up the chair to the empty secretary desk and hurled it at Conner. However, the chair disappeared.

"Karla!" shouted Conner. "I don't need help!" His voice lowered, directing his tone towards the man. "But _you_ will." He grimaced, approaching the man.

Cunningham, with a grunt, lifted the entire desk and hurled it at Conner. The nimble raccoon leapt atop of it as the furnishing sailed through the air. He somersaulted from it, drew back his cane and struck the man across the face with all his might. The glowing cane sent another fantastic shock into the canine's body, throwing the massive man to the ground again. "I am going to run you through then leave you the way you left me… bleeding to death with no clear future. Karma is a bitch, huh?"

"If you believe in karma," said the man, "Then you must have deserved what happened to you the first time around."

"Nice try," said Conner. "But I don't think so. I'm here to punish the wicked mother fu-" a gunshot rang out, "-ker. I'm going to break every rib in your chest when I drive this cane through you." He ignored the arrival of the private security, knowing that Karla would handle them. Conner locked his gaze with the other man's eyes. "You'd better make peace with whatever you believe in because you're about to find out the truth." He raised the cane again, gritting his teeth.

"You know, my brother Tony, has fought your grandfather, your father and your mother. Now, Two-Gun Tony, you know him better as 'Muggshot' is a pretty tough kid because he was the runt of the litter and it caused him to toughen up considerably. But in the end, he's quite a smart guy even though you wouldn't know it right away. I think he was cursed when fighting Coopers after bad karma – he broke into Conner's joint and killed the old man… but he shouldn't have done in the family. That was bad karma. I don't have bad karma with your blood, kid. That's why I'm able to shut you down every time we lock horns. Now it's going to happen _again_."

"Conner," said Dawn over the earpiece. "I forgot about this until now… and I never had the chance three years ago… but when we were doing that job in London, where we rescued my half-sister… I intercepted a message meant for you from Heathrow prison. A man named Jim McSweeney mentioned that he heard through the grapevine that Cunningham was gunning for you and your father out of revenge for his brother. The message was that this guy has a weakness!"

"Uh-huh," said Cooper, followed by a grunt as he jumped over the hulking bulldog. "And?"

"I can't believe I'd forgotten to tell you about this until now. I guess I was so emotional about my half-sister and, later, when we were in Tampa – I was surprised by their attack… I'm so sorry."

"What's the message," Conner hissed as he leapt into the air again. This time, however, the man caught him in mid air and threw the teenage boy. The raccoon hit the wall and slid to the floor. He winced, favoring his back where the empty cane holster left a bruise. "Ow, that smarts," he muttered.

"He has a pacemaker. See, he has a really bad heart murmur. It beats irregularly. McSweeney heard this from Muggshot directly, after he was extradited from Holland to England after being arrested by your mother at some air show. Get him breathing hard then whack him in the chest or jolt him somehow… something!"

Cooper took the phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Karla, but the Bluetooth earpiece remained paired with the unit from afar. He stood up and waved the canine forward. "Come get me, meathead."

The bulky bulldog drew his fist back and lunged at Conner. The raccoon turned away then put his right foot on the wall and kicked backwards. He easily evaded the man and dropped to a crouch behind. Conner thrust his cane forward and struck the back of the man's right knee.

Cunningham buckled with a groan. He eased back to a standing position then rushed after the teen; in response, Cooper literally ran away. The bulldog gave chase. At the far end of the room, the boy planted his foot against the wall again but this time he twisted his body. He followed through with a kick to the man's face then dropped back to his feet.

The bulldog's head snapped to the left but in response, he flared his nostrils. He took Cooper by his throat and threw the younger male across the room. Conner went head over heels but twisted about and managed to land on his feet. Cunningham charged him again.

After three laps across the room, Conner took his chance by clinching his cane. It glowed softly in his palm. He stood in a relaxed position, not moving or wavering in will.

Cunningham shouted, "I'll impale you like the last time!" He reached for the cane but as soon as he closed his fist around it, the stored energy was released into the bulldog's body. He opened his muzzle to shout but the powerful shock made it impossible to expel air.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" asked Conner with a smirk. He jerked his cane out of the man's fist then swung it like a baseball bat. The hooked end connected with the man's forehead, laying him out.

Karla, currently busy with the gang of men that had come to Cunningham's aid, shouted to Conner over her shoulder. "Good job, Casey Jones!"

Conner lifted his foot and brought it down over the man's chest but, to his surprise, the bulldog managed to catch the raccoon by his ankle. Cooper found himself flung across the room again. He slid down the wall with a grunt then sprinted back towards the middle of the room.

The bulldog stood up and threw his arm out, backhanding Cooper. The smaller-framed raccoon went sailing into the air. He caught hold of maintenance pipes with the hook of his cane then swung around twice. He redirected his momentum back towards Cunningham then drove the tip of his charged cane into the man's chest. Conner's electrical transference attack forced an intense amount of raw energy into the canine's chest.

He fell to the floor, clutching his shirt and gasping like a fish out of water.

"How's it feel to be on the other end, now?" Conner growled. He swung his cane again, catching the brute by his throat. Cooper twisted with all of his body weight until a pop was heard.

Cunningham reached for his now-broken collarbone and shouted in anger. "I'm going to burry you, kid!"

"Why won't you _die_?" shouted Conner back, swinging his cane down like an axe. It struck the man over his heart, breaking two ribs. Suddenly, Cooper found himself thrown across the room from a powerful kick. The teenage boy scrambled back to his feet as the hulking dog rose as well. They eyed one another then Conner began another approached.

Cunningham, however, simply stood still. His eyes rolled upwards. He reached a paw for his left arm but, after a moment, dropped both paws to his sides. He shuddered.

Seeing an opportunity, Conner drew his cane back, clinched his paws tightly to charge the golden rod then he struck the canine in his chest. The large dog fell backwards, motionless. His jaw dropped open then his head fell to the left, causing his tongue to touch to floor.

Cooper pursed his lips then spit on the man. He lifted his foot and stomped directly on the man's solar plexus. Finally, he knelt down and placed his palm on the man's ribcage and gritted his teeth to channel his raw emotions. His paw began to glow lightly but it only lasted for a few seconds. The teenage boy backed away, panting. "Yeah? Well, he doesn't have a pacemaker anymore." He lifted the back of his wrist to his forehead and wiped away sweat.

"DON'T MOVE!" The feminine voice caught the attention of Conner, Karla and the last two remaining guards. Everyone froze and turned to face two women at the other end of the room. Carmelita Fox and Javari Ahma stood in the doorway, the wolverine half hiding behind the middle-aged vixen. Carmelita drew an energy pistol and pointed it at a wide-eyed Conner then said, "If you resist, I'll kill you both." She cut her gaze to Karla, adding, "Especially _you_, harlot."

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A/N: _WHAT IS THIS MADNESS? HOW CAN SHE DO THIS? Carmelita Fox, threatening to shoot and kill Karla and her own son? What is this madness? And what is Javari doing there, hiding behind Carmelita with a look of fear on her face? I guess you'll all just have to wait until chapter 30 to find out! CLIFFHANGER! …So, what did everyone think of Karla's obnoxious advances, earlier? Oh, and for all of you fans of Karla, don't worry… you'll see her get to throw down in the next chapter. I promise. She's fun in combat scenes. I'm already seven thousand words into the thirtieth chapter. YEAH! I've written out the entire first combat scene, already! Yay!_

_Okay, so I'm on the road to Myrtle Beach today. Just a day trip. Last night, I wrote the rest of this chapter, added a few little details then I wrote 7 thousand words of the new chapter. Then, at midnight, I got into my car with Dawn and now we're in North Carolina on the way to Myrtle Beach. Now I'm in front of a Fairfield Marriott and I'm stealing on their Wi-Fi to upload this chapter. Woot. ENJOY. _

_-Kit_


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: _Okay, time to get down to the nitty gritty. I'm going to tie up some loose ends before we get to the climatic parts. It's time to put romantic tensions on the line and lay to rest awkward frayed and split ends. Also, what the heck is up with Carmelita Fox? I'd like to try and portray more of the mortal sides of our characters – what about Doctor M.? He's not even made an entrance in this story yet – is he REALLY the bad guy? We start back off in the lobby of the tallest building at the center of the domed city. There are lots of things going on right now because excitement makes a good story climax. But this climax is probably going to be split into two parts. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate you for taking the time to read my material. Everyone's time is precious and the fact you chose to spend your time reading my work is always humbling. _

_-Kit_

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Chapter -30-

**"I'm so sorry," **said Javari, still hiding behind Carmelita. "Conner, just do as she says, please. She's the top dog in this city. She's the judge, jury and by all means… she's the executioner. She's not who you think she is."

"Shut up," snapped Carmelita. "You may be important to Moreau but you're _worthless_ to me, girl." She narrowed her eyes at Conner. "Did you just kill that man by stopping his heart and breaking his pacemaker? That's _murder_ and in _my_ city, you'll have to abide by _my_ punishment." She kept the gun leveled on Conner but shifted her gaze to Karla. "For some reason I remember you. I don't remember all the details, but I remember that you _really_ just need to _die_." She snapped her fingers three times then shook a finger in Karla's direction. "But it's starting to come back, now."

"Mom?" Conner's jaw quivered with incomprehension. "What …what are you doing? Why are you doing this? What about your _husband_? Where is _he_?"

"My _who_?" Carmelita cut her gaze back to the teenager.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Conner. We thought you were _brain_ _dead_," Javari interjected. It went ignored.

"My father," he replied to Carmelita Fox. "Where's your husband? What's going on, mom?"

"Shut the hell up, boy. You have no idea what you're talking about." She fired the weapon causing everyone to squint from the brightness of the discharge. It passed Conner with such proximity that it caused the shoulder of his shirt to smolder from the heat. He quickly brought a paw to favor his upper arm, patting out the stinging sensation.

"Wait just a Goddamned minute," said Karla, snarling in distrust. She teleported, appearing between Javari and Carmelita. Karla threw her paws downwards, forcing Carmelita to be pinned by a powerful telekinetic wave. With Carmelita lying on her stomach, Karla placed a knee against the back of Carmelita's neck and grabbed the vixen's ears in both paws.

"Karla, stop! That's my _mother_!"

The felox looked up at him then delivered a hard punch to the backside of Carmelita's head. "No it isn't! The Carmelita _I_ knew took a gunshot or two… It was hidden when the fur grew back but she had a clipped ear from where Sire shot her. I was there; I saw the whole thing. This chick doesn't have any markings at all." Karla stood up and threw her paws out, throwing Carmelita across the floor. The felox approached the vixen, knelt down then grasped the woman's shirt and ripped it open. She used her telekinesis to keep Carmelita pinned on her back. Karla ran her fingers through the woman's chest fur. "Supposedly Muggshot hit her in the torso, once… she's clean. No wounds. No character markings mean that this chick isn't the real character. She's an _imposter_."

Carmelita struggled to move her arms. However, she soon realized that her legs weren't pinned. The vixen kicked her foot up, catching the kneeling Karla in the back of the head. Suddenly the weighty sensation concluded allowing the vulpine to get to her feet. Before Karla could recover, the middle-aged vix pivoted and delivered a swift kick to the side of the felox's face. "Shut your mouth, harlot. I'll take your head back to Doctor M as a trophy." Carmelita then jerked her paw out, pistol-whipping the raccoon that attempted sneaking up on her. He fell to the ground.

"Conner!" shouted Javari. "She doesn't remember anything about her past."

"Will you hush?" Carmelita barked at the wolverine that cowered in response. "Do you remember the last time we got into a fight? You thought you could take me so I gave you a concussion and broke your arm and two ribs? You want that again?"

"N-no." Ahma coughed.

Carmelita grinned. "It's a good thing Doctor M performed that surgery on you a few months ago… After all this time you can _finally_ feel pain again. It sure as hell put you in your place quick, that's for sure."

"It would have killed me if he didn't take the bullet out of my brain," she murmured.

"I'm glad he did. Pain makes you an effective little pawn to me. So sit down, shut up, and don't talk until I tell you to." Carmelita approached Conner and put the barrel against his head then lifted her gaze, glared at the half-breed then turned her attention back to Conner with a smirk. "Karla, was it? My dear girl, if you even wiggle a finger, I'll pull the trigger. First Sly, then Slick, now this kid. You sure love raccoon dick, don't you?"

Karla gasped. "Oh that's _low_. And for your information, I married _Winthrop_."

Carmelita glanced over her shoulder, a perplexed look on her face. "I vaguely recall that name… wait… my old _intern_?" She snorted in half-laughter then said, "You just want _all_ of my old rejects, don't you? Thieves, wimps and clone rejects. No matter, I've taken you down _every single time_ we've fought in the past. You want it again whore? Bring it."

"You're not even really Carmelita Fox. You're a cheap knockoff with limited memories. Do you remember saving Sly Cooper on Kane Island?"

"_SAVING_? Are you an idiot? I remember that he attacked Doctor M's home, an island in the Pacific! I took him down at the inner sanctum and, in the end, the place collapsed! Then you and your band of idiots found and abducted him – _nobody_ steals _my_ prized bust from _me_!"

Karla blinked. "Boy, your memories are twisted, even for a _clone_."

Javari and Conner's eyes widened. Carmelita, however, gritted her teeth. "You're the only clone around here, wench. You be sure and tell me if clones have souls when I rip you into halves. I'm somewhat curious to find out if you'll see a bright light so be sure and tell me with your last breath, okay?"

Conner shook his head, tears matting down his facial fur. "My mother would never say those things to _any_body."

Carmelita narrowed her gaze at Conner, listening carefully to what they said to analyze all the facts surrounding her.

"She's _not_ your mother, Conner! If Moreau was able to make a clone of Carmelita then it's likely that he has her frozen in order to use her DNA." She cut her gaze at Javari. "Whose team are you on?"

"He's forcing me to use my mathematical ability to decipher these ancient computers in order to operate them. He said he'll kill everyone else if I don't comply."

"Who is left?" Karla cracked her knuckles then told Conner, "Stop crying – that's _not_ your mother."

Carmelita grinded the barrel against his head and murmured, "She's right about one thing. I don't even know this kid but I can tell by his face that he's a _Cooper_."

Javari swallowed. "Everyone. I… I thought Carmelita had been revived. She never seemed to know anyone else, including me, so I thought she'd lost her memories or something. I could never be sure."

A smirk tugged at Karla's muzzle. "She's not the real McCoy. She's a cheap knockoff made by an inexperienced mad scientist who lacks talent and vision."

Carmelita withdrew a second pistol and aimed it at Karla. "Shut your filthy mouth. Alphonse isn't like that – what he's doing is for the good of humanity and I'm _happy_ to be apart of that. What _you_ do is sleep around and do Sire's bidding."

"Sire's been dead for about thirty years," replied the felox. Her eyes widened and she balked in shock. "Holy crap, are you _sleeping_ with Moreau?"

Carmelita rolled her eyes and in a chastising voice, she said, "No, Karla… Oh, I see, you're jealous because he _won't_ date _you_. Give it a rest before you infect the whole city with whatever diseases you brought from the topside. Seriously, your legs have to be _tired_ by now."

Karla snorted in mock laughter. "You _are_, aren't you? _WAY GROSS_, he designed you to be his mate? I mean, he's a mandrill and you're a vixen… how the hell does that even _work_? I heard apes are hung like infants – god that has to be the _worst_ lay of all time."

Carmelita offered a dull glare. "He's too old to date. He's old enough to be my _father_, you idiot. Is that all you think about, Karla? Sex? Seriously, close your legs for once."

The felox scowled at the vixen. "Enough chatter. Now that I know you're not his mother, I'm going to flatten you."

"You keep striking out. Now will be no different." Carmelita twirled the weapon in her left paw then put it into a holster, keeping the right one trained on Conner. She then withdrew yet another weapon from her thigh holster, brought it to Conner's arm, and squeezed the trigger. Within seconds, he slumped over with fully dilated pupils. She then lifted the same weapon and fired it towards Karla.

The felox deadpanned. Her eyes lowered to a tranquilizer dart suspended in mid air a meter from her torso. She stepped forward and snatched it into her paw then quirked a brow. "What happened to just _shocking_ people? You don't do that anymore?"

"Like this?" Carmelita lifted the barrel away from Conner's head and fired. A vibrant discharge lanced across the room. Unable to grab or deflect the lethal energy round, Karla teleported out of its path. She appeared immediately to the right.

"Yeah, like that. By the way… get a DNA test – he's your kid. I don't care if you don't believe me. There's just one problem… you're not the real Carmelita Fox. And for your information, you missed out on one hell of a man. Winthrop is _unbelievable_. It took a little molding but like all _truly_ good men, he was willing clay."

Carmelita balked and simply shouted, "Whore! Seriously, you _really_ are!"

"No," replied Karla calmly. "I _married_ him. We have a _son_ together. So before you judge, you should do some research." She threw her paw outward, knocking Carmelita back. The vixen dove into the forceful wave and fired off a shot then tucked into a roll.

Karla dove to the left and used her telekinesis to throw Javari to the right. The round disappeared down the hallway.

Carmelita stood up, enraged. She pointed at Karla and shouted to the two remaining guards that looked confused. "GET HER, YOU MORONS!" They quickly rushed towards the beautiful young-looking white-furred woman. She got to her feet then waved her paws outwards, throwing both of them in opposite directions. They went completely through the bulkheads, leaving holes in the lobby walls.

"No, no, _no_! Bad foxy!" Karla licked her lips with a grin. "It's just _us_. It's the rematch of the century, monkey humper." She cleared her voice and said, "Javari, get the boy out of the lobby. You'd _better_ not be lying about whose side you're on or I'm coming for you next. Take these, too." She waved a paw; the Staff of Moses and Conner's cell phone lifted off the ground and rushed into Javari's awaiting paws.

Carmelita gritted her teeth. "Javari, he's unconscious. Take him down to the brig and lock him away. Take those objects and file them as evidence. If you don't comply with my order, I'll break more bones – they'll take longer to heal this time because it will be ten times longer and ten times harder than your last punishment."

Javari moved to the center of the room, grasped Conner by his shoulder and said, "I'm in no shape to move him that far Miss Fox, thanks to what you did to me _last month_," she told Carmelita, adding, "I'll drag him to the next room and stay out of your way." She pulled him across the lobby floor and into an elegantly decorated bathroom. She looked at his phone then plucked the earpiece from his ear and locked the bathroom door.

Meanwhile, out in the main lobby of the fancy skyscraper, Karla ran her fingers back through her hair. "Oh, man, I can't tell you how much I've wanted to pick a fight with you… but now things are different. I'm finally going to get this out of my system."

"You'll just teleport out of any jail I lock you into… so it's obvious what I've got to do," replied the vixen through clinched teeth. "As a danger to this city, your punishment is the death penalty. Don't worry, it'll be swift and clean if you just _hold still_," cried Fox as she rushed forward now holding both of her energy pistols once more. She fired shots at Karla in mid sprint.

The felox teleported out of Carmelita's way, watching as multiple rounds blew holes in the decorated lobby walls. Debris filled the air. Karla disappeared once more. She reappeared behind Carmelita then threw her arms outwards, knocking the vixen to the floor as before. However, Carmelita was ready for it this time and got off a round as she went down.

Karla dove to the left then disappeared again before landing on the ground. She reappeared up in the air, perched upon the dazzling chandelier. "Look, you beat me a few times in the past… that just means I've had time to study your moves. Now you're older and slower and, as a clone, you're never going to be as good as the real Carmelita… Trust me, I know. I'm not as good as the real Karla was, like… four hundred years ago. But I'm still better than _you_, fakey-Fox. But… at least I'll finally get to fight someone who provides a challenge. Doctor M's other minions all _suck_. They're all hired guns that can't even put up a good fight. You seem to have an impressive willpower under pressure – let's rumble"

"Then I'll be happy to throw you around a bit." Carmelita lifted both of her weapons and grinned.

Karla wagged a paw, throwing Cunningham's body into the vixen. "I'll give you one chance to walk away from this, out of respect for Conner. You can join us. You get a DNA test and you'll see that Conner is a genetic match as your offspring, then we'll go down to wherever the good Doctor keeps his frozen hostages… and we'll find the _real_ Carmelita _Cooper_, and after you _realize_ that Moreau has been lying to you all along… you can help us shut him down."

The vixen glanced towards the bathroom where Conner was as though weighing her options. She glanced back to Karla and smirked. "You're an _idiot_," replied Carmelita, shoving the large canine's body off of her legs. "I've been down there. There are no versions of _me_ among those people. Moreau _needs_ me. I'm business minded and I keep the peace, here. I'm his enforcer and I keep the law in place while he's off doing his research. This has become _my_ city and _you_ are an invader. I've _learned_ that you've got to be ruthless to keep the peace down here. Now…" She fired two rounds but Karla disappeared.

The massive chandelier came crashing to the ground. Carmelita shielded her face from flying debris then turned about, coming face to face with Karla. She performed a roundhouse but her leg passed through empty air. "Stop hiding, you freak!"

Karla appeared on the opposite end of the large light fixture and used her telekinesis to hurl it at the vixen. Carmelita was too quick and dove beneath it. The remains of the once beautiful chandelier now lay bunched up against the wall with Cunningham's motionless body trapped beneath it. He uttered a low groan, signaling that he was still alive.

"I guess the boy isn't a murderer after all," said the felox with a smirk.

"Second degree attempted murder," replied Carmelita, firing two more rounds at Karla. She disappeared once more then reappeared in the same spot only for two more rounds to come at her. She dissolved into thin air once more. This time, she reappeared behind the front desk, patting her shirt rapidly.

Karla breathed a sigh of relief. "Damn, that one was close. I could feel the heat singing my eyebrows." She grinned and added, "That's what I like about you, even though you're just a cheap knockoff clone… you still put up a good fight."

"You're the clone and I'm going to fix your tail – legally you shouldn't even exist!" Carmelita fired two more rounds.

Karla lifted her paws, throwing the desk. The large furnishing absorbed the double energy impact but the rest of the desk hurtled through the air. It struck Carmelita, knocking her down but continued over her and into the floor, bursting into wooden pieces. The vixen grunted and got to her feet, hurting but far from defeat.

"Is that your best stuff, kid?" The vulpine exhaled through her teeth then aimed her weapons at Karla again. "You used to be way more… evil. Now you're just a pansy with fancy powers. Talk about cheap knockoffs, you're a real disappointment anymore."

"Oh boo-hoo; I switched sides, ya old hag. When I get to _my_ forties, I'll still look younger than half the twenty-year-olds out there. You? Ha! Is that a little bit of gray fur poking out of your ears? Seriously, you should check into hair coloring. The peppered look works better for men, ya saggy old donut-eating, gray looking rent-a-cop."

"I'm going to rip your tongue out, you prissy stuck up bow-legged jezebel. You should have been a dog; I know just the breed, too… a cock hound. Maybe if you weren't always so spread-eagle you'd have made something of your life instead of being Sire's little bitch all the time. I bet you were mad that you couldn't sleep with that man-loving fruitcake."

"Oh, seriously, men have been a real snooze lately." Karla threw her arms outwards to the left and right. Carmelita's weapons went flying from her paws. Next, Karla teleported Carmelita then herself. They both reappeared across the room with Carmelita against her back and Karla grinding the vixen up against the wall. "See? Way more erotic, don't you think?" Karla took Carmelita by either side of her face then slammed her head against the wall. She then pulled the dazed vixen's head forward, burying it into the half-breed's chest. "I'll just _smother _the life out of you!"

Carmelita buried a fist into Karla's side. The kidney shot caused the white-furred beauty to cry out in pain. Carmelita repeated the attack, hammering Karla's left side. The felox utilized a close-proximity telekinetic burst, throwing both of them apart. Karla skidded across the floor while Carmelita went through the wall. The half-breed disappeared once more then reappeared in a standing position. She dusted plaster off of her shoulders and arms. "You're a kinky one, old woman."

"Slut," murmured Carmelita from the other side of the hole.

Karla smirked. "Hag."

The vixen's paws found the hole, pulling herself back through it, slowly. Karla groaned in frustration then used another powerful wave to knock Carmelita down again. "Admit defeat. Just… concede, stupid."

Quite suddenly the wall, adjacent to the hole, blew open. It threw Karla to the floor. Carmelita stepped through the newer, larger hole and picked up the two guns on the floor. "I carry more weapons than you can count, since clones don't go to grade school to learn that sort of thing."

"You dummy," groaned Karla, "You're a clone, too. Don't be a moron." She glanced up in time to see Carmelita fire her weapons. "Crap!" She disappeared.

Karla reappeared in front of Carmelita, delivered a punch to the face and teleported to the other side of the vixen, throwing another hard punch only to snap out of existence once more. She returned in the air just a few feet above the other woman. Karla delivered a debilitating kick to the face then teleported behind the vixen, shoving her to the ground. "Stop shooting at me, you old bat!"

"You fought a lot harder last time," said Carmelita. "Something you're not telling me?"

Karla rolled her eyes. "Conner would get all bent out of shape if I killed you, even though you're not his real mother. He's a pretty emotional guy – just mind his temper. He's got a serious one, thanks to your half of the gene pool. The polluted mucky half."

"He's a Cooper, it doesn't get more polluted than that," said Fox with a smirk. She aimed her weapons at Karla again then pulled bother triggers. Nothing happened.

Karla sighed a breath of relief. "It's about time you ran out of juice! Christ Almighty, I'll invest stock in those things. Now, it's time to finish this stupid fight. I'm going easy on you because you're twenty years older than the last Carmelita I fought. But I'm tired of toying around. Conner and I have work to do – we've got to save the god-forsaken world from your idiot employer. Now it's lights out time."

"Shut your mouth, skank." Fox threw her pistols and went for another pair of guns.

Karla teleported directly behind Carmelita and delivered a knuckle-riddled donkey punch to the vixen's head. Carmelita groaned and toppled forward but not before kicking a leg back and catching Karla in the jaw. Carmelita fell to her stomach while Karla fell to her back. Both women grunted in pain.

"That's _it_," Karla growled, sitting up. She reached for Carmelita's leg. "C'mere, you!"

Carmelita rolled over with a small ball-shaped device in her left palm. She dropped it on the ground and immediately brought her paws to her ears, clinching her eyes tightly. The ball was the last thing that Karla saw. Blinding white light and piercing high-pitched sound caused Karla to wave in the air as if groping in the dark. Her expression of confusion and disorientation caused Carmelita to smirk victoriously.

The vixen took Karla by the shoulders, lifted her in the air and threw her into the wall. The vulpine cop began stomping on Karla's hips and kicking her in the gut repeatedly. "That's right, you stupid, gullible tart! You're nothing without your ears, ears and paws!" Carmelita continued to stomp and kick while retrieving a combat knife from her left ankle. She lifted it in a menacing way. "Time to cut out those pretty green eyes, then you won't be performing your little magic tricks anymore. After that, we'll do a field surgery. Ever had a lobotomy? Well you're about to!"

Rather suddenly something struck Carmelita in the back of the head. Her body was thrown to the left and she watched as Karla's cowering form faded to black. Her body collided with the ground and she rolled three times. Dazed and in pain, Carmelita lifted her head, seeing a middle-aged gray and tan-furred man standing over Karla's form. He held a broken chair in his paws.

"W…win…-throp?"

"That's my _wife_, Senior Inspector _Cooper_. I may have crushed on you for years… but if I had to choose _now_… I'd choose the mother of my son." He threw the remains of the chair to the ground then knelt down and lifted Karla into his arms. "How _dare_ you attack her after all she's done to _help_ you and your husband, let alone all she's done to keep your children safe… how _dare_ you?"

"C…crush on …me?" Carmelita lifted a paw, favoring the bloody spot on the backside of her head. "Cooper? I'm no Cooper."

"Yes you are," he replied. "The day you accepted Sly Cooper's proposal to marriage is the day I got over you. And I don't regret it one bit because if it wasn't for that filthy flea-bag taking your paw in marriage… I would have never met the _love of my life_. You never were much of a good cop anyhow… You couldn't catch your target so you decided to date him instead… real sterling police work, there, if you ask me."

"What …what the hell are you babbling about?" she demanded, getting her equilibrium back. "I've never married, I've never had children. I'm too busy with my duties for relationships – I'm a virgin, you idiot."

Winthrop offered her a dubious glance. "Don't be dense – your daughter looks _just like you_, save for the fur coloration. I don't care how hard of a blow to the head you've taken to forget about the past… the fact remains that you're Sly Cooper's wife and you two have kids together. I've seen them and I really don't sing your tune anymore."

"You're unequivocally _wrong_," she replied, coming to her feet. "Why the hell would you marry that hussy, anyhow? And for the record, I've been down here for two years – I've never _ever_ had kids or a husband."

Karla, who was beginning to get her hearing and sight back, tucked her face into Winthrop's chest. "She's a clone – she's not the real Carmelita Fox." She then lifted her head and looked up at her husband. "You… you came to help us…?"

He nodded. "I followed Penelope to Florida. Apparently she tracked you guys out here using Conner's phone… It made sense to come to the tallest building in the whole city first." He glanced at the woozy Carmelita, still dizzy from the concussion she'd just received.

The felox offered her husband a smile. She pushed her left paw into her camo-pants and eased her ring finger into a gold band hidden at the bottom of her pocket. She then lifted her paw and showed him that she was wearing the wedding ring. "I held out hope."

"I'm sorry I acted the way I did," he said. "I don't agree with interfering in all of this mess but a good marriage means that I should be more supportive of things you feel strongly about. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out; you're my first real relationship and I hope you're patient with me as I learn from my mistakes." He lowered his left arm, easing Karla's feet to the ground. "I love you."

Karla rubbed the side of her face, placing her right paw against her left hip to favor the bruises she'd received from Carmelita. She looked up at him, half hunched in pain and, quietly, said, "I love you, too. Who is watching Donovan?"

"He's in Florida with Penelope and Stephan. If you trust them, I guess I should, too. Oddly enough, that guy Stephan has taken incredible interest in Donnie." He turned his gaze to Carmelita and narrowed his eyes. "You were a crappy, unappreciative boss, you know that?"

"I told you, she's not Carmelita," murmured Karla. "She thinks she is, but she's not. She shot Conner with some sort of dart. He's not responsive. She's a clone, like me." Karla looked over at Carmelita and raised her voice, "You and I have some unfinished business… that was pretty clever but I won't fall for it a second time."

"I'll kill you _both_," replied the vixen, pulling out two fresh pistols from thigh holsters.

Winthrop furrowed his brows. "Can I hit her again, hon? I mean, that was _really_ therapeutic, I'm not gunna lie."

Karla murmured to him, "Get ready." She then charged Carmelita. The vixen raised her weapons, aiming at Karla. Meanwhile, the felox teleported her husband behind the cloned officer. Carmelita, not ready for the maneuver, was surprised by another attack from behind.

Winthrop brought both of his fists down on the clone's head, knocking her to the floor from the vicious strike. Karla then raised her paws, throwing Carmelita across the room with incredible force. The slumped vixen struck the elevator doors and dropped to her tail, sitting up against them. The doors swished open and she flopped back into the elevator. After a moment, the doors began to close, bumping into the unconscious woman's hips. They opened then closed again, once more bumping into Carmelita's hips only to repeat.

Karla brought a paw to her bruised waist and groaned long and loud. "Sweet Jesus, she man-handled me _again_. What the hell is up with her that I can never take her down by myself? I've leveled a whole horde of guys before – threw them all off a rooftop and cleaned house with entire teams of attackers before… why _her_?"

"She's pretty resourceful," replied Winthrop. "How did she take you down, anyhow?"

"She used a small _thing_… some sort of miniature grenade that blinded and deafened me. I was lying there getting the crap kicked out of me when you showed up. I couldn't see or hear anything."

Winthrop's expression contorted into a disgusted look. "She was about to carve out your eyes with a knife. I guess I got here just in time – sorry I wasn't sooner. Finding a way out here was harder than you'd think."

"I don't care how you got out here, just hold me." She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He scooped her up into his arms and she sighed in content, hooking her left arm loosely around him. After a moment, they broke the kiss and Karla said, "I was about to give up on men… but you've really impressed me, Winthrop. Then you show up, you rescue me and you say all the right words, finally… I guess I was wrong about you. I don't want a divorce."

"Me either. I tore up the separation papers. You're my wife and I want to wake up besides you every morning for the rest of my life."

She smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. A masculine sounding groan startled her and she lay her head on Winthrop's chest, looking across the debris-filled lobby at Javari and a weary-looking Conner in the bathroom doorway.

Ahma rubbed her muzzle and said, "I managed to suck out the toxin like a snakebite. Foul tasting stuff, but I was able to get him awake. He's still pretty woozy, though. I know where the medical supplies are – we can get him some epinephrine and it'll help get him back on his feet for now."

Conner nodded his head drunkenly. "Winthrop? How did you get here, man?" The raccoon's speech was slightly slurred but otherwise intelligible. "When did you arrive?"

Karla nuzzled her face into his chest, still favoring her bruised left hip. "He just got here. We're not getting divorced after all, isn't that great?"

Conner sighed in relief. "Thank God." He offered an awkward smile to Winthrop. "She _really_ missed you, man. She didn't realize it, but subconsciously, she _really_ missed you. She's been emotionally _impossible_ during your time apart. A real handful let me tell ya – if you ever break up with her again, I'll wring your neck."

Winthrop offered a wry grin. "She was too hot to handle, huh?" His head lowered, nuzzling his nose against Karla's blond tresses. "That's my girl, for ya. She's pretty needy if you don't keep her fully satisfied every single day."

"Yeah, good timing," she murmured against his chest. "You know how my hormones are. It's a good thing you got here when you did."

He chuckled and tightened his arms around her. "Yeah, you might stray… a _lot_. I know I've got to keep you satisfied and keep you warm at night."

She nodded, keeping her face burrowed in his chest. "As soon as we get out of this place, we're getting a room before picking up Donovan from Penelope and Stephan. I mean it."

Conner blinked and pushed away from Javari, walking across the room to the unconscious form of Carmelita Fox. He shoved the doors open and pulled her out by her ankle then brushed the hair from her face. "Jesus Christ, what happened to her?"

Karla sighed with a groan. "I told you! She's _not_ your mother, Conner! She's a clone made to conform to Moreau's silly needs. She's not a threat anymore… at least not right now."

Conner shook his head rapidly. "Even so, she's bleeding pretty badly. We need to get her somewhere with medical supplies."

Carmelita blinked her eyes open and groaned softly. She tried to lift her head but couldn't manage it. Conner drew her head up onto his knee. She turned her head away from him and coughed up blood. "C…Cooper?"

"I'm here, mom."

"Is… is it true? Are you my son?"

He fished out his wallet and showed her a family photograph. "I know you're not supposed to really be my mother… but… I won't let you die."

She moved her head slowly back and forth but it was hardly noticeable. She spit out a bit of blood onto her shirt. "It's too late for me. Internal injuries… and worse. I don't have long, I can feel it." Javari, Karla and Winthrop approached Conner, crowding around the two on the floor.

"No, you'll be fine. You don't have to die – that would be needless and wasteful."

"I don't remember ever having a relationship with your father… but that doesn't mean I don't remember having feelings for him. He's saved my life on several occasions and I remember those times very well… if what you're saying is true… then I guess I made my choice carefully after weighing all the pros and cons… its what I do."

"I know, mom. C'mon, let me get you some help."

"I don't have long," she murmured. "Touch my neck."

Conner brought his paw to her neck and pressed gently then frowned. "You… it's… your neck is broken."

"I can't feel much of anything," she whispered. "I can barely move my head but can't feel anything from my throat to my toes. I'm a good judge of character and you have a kindness in your eyes…"

"I'm your son."

She licked her lips, drooling blood down the side of her face. "The computer will defrost your father. It'll defrost everyone. Only Moreau and I know the code. It will require a pin number and a group of mathematical commands that Javari will be able to figure out. The password is the date your grandfather died, no spaces or punctuation. It's eight digits. I'm… sorry – I never wanted to be the bad guy. I didn't know." Her voice grew softer. Finally, she drew in a slow breath through her nose and said, "I hope I was a good mother." She grew quiet, staring straight through him.

Conner stared at her, paralyzed with fear. His jaw quivered. "J-Jesus. She's…" He couldn't bring himself to use the word 'dead'. His body ached and he felt woozy. Nausea bubbled up from his gut. He turned his head away and threw up on the floor.

"Conner… we'll find your mother, I swear."

Javari pursed her lips together out of respect for Conner then, softly, said, "I'll show you where your family is. But your mother isn't among them."

Cooper lifted his head, glaring at Karla. "You'd better be right about her – she'd better be a clone, that's all I can say about that. You'd _better_ be right about it."

"Just calm down," said Karla. "Moreau probably hid her in a separate location so that he wouldn't be caught in his lie."

Conner looked back down at the dead woman's head on his knee… the woman he called '_mother'_ his entire life. "You'd better be right." He pulled her head into his arms, just holding the dead vixen.

Karla said, "Let her go… she's not your mother. You're holding a dead woman – she's _not_ your mother… she was a genetic copy made from stolen DNA. She told you that, herself. She's not your mother. You're morbidly clinging to a dead…"

"SHUT UP," shouted Conner. "SHUT the f-ck up, Karla. This is Carmelita Fox, no matter where her DNA came from. I accept you as Karla Chintzy, no matter how long the real Karla has been dead. So just SHUT UP, already. Give me ONE goddamn minute to GRIEVE!"

Karla's eyes went wide and she pushed herself into Winthrop's chest. No one spoke. They simply watched Conner sulk, caressing the dead woman's forehead. He leaned down and whispered something into the left orange-furred ear then, after several long minutes, he used a paw to close her eyes and stood up. "Moreau did this to her and, because of what he's done, he caused her death. He's to blame – I just needed a minute to process all of this." He stumbled. Javari placed a paw against his back, providing support. She plucked the earpiece out of her ear and gently attached it to Conner's ear.

He lifted a paw and pushed on it to get it comfortable then said, "I need… something. Coffee… I don't even know what I need."

"We'll get you some epinephrine," said Javari, adding, "Then we'll wake up your family. It will take a few hours for them to thaw out. I don't know how much time we have until Moreau realizes that his two top enforcers are missing in action… I'll stay with them during the waking process. Dawn is going to use the computer to try and hack into Moreau's private files to find your mother. She's also going to scan the city for similar power drawing areas that might help us deduce where your mother would be kept in stasis. You guys go on ahead. If you can't stop Moreau… maybe your family and friends can… We were caught by surprise last time. He froze everyone but me and Sergei."

"He's still awake? Where is he?" Conner rubbed the side of his face.

"He's…"

Karla's eyes widened. "Did Moreau kill him?"

Javari shook her head, "No, thank goodness. But he's being held as a live captive. Moreau likes to torture him if I misbehave. He felt it would be a better means of controlling me. But I don't know where he's being held – the location changes every so often so that I don't rescue him. But he's well, he's healthy and I'm allowed to talk to him when I behave… and if I do something really good… I get to see him in person for a few hours. Our relationship has grown, even though we're kept apart."

"Something tells me you know where he is, now," said Karla.

Javari nodded. "I spoke to Dawn over the phone, while I was with Conner. She found him on the security cameras. She's already made contact with him because his cell isn't guarded. I'm glad he wasn't frozen… the thought of him being that much younger than me would be that much weirder… and… I'm sorry. I'm being selfish."

Conner took a long slow breath, looked down at the body on the floor and shuddered then said, "We'll go and get him, first. Then we'll go and get my family and everyone else. You and him should stay together while they thaw. If someone attacks or something… or if you guys are caught releasing everyone… well, you'll need his help to defend yourselves."

"Yeah, that would be good." She offered a thin smile. "Okay, Dawn will lead you… lead all of us… to wherever he's being held. Then we'll go down to the laboratory and thaw everyone. It's a Sunday and, at this hour, it's so quiet that no one will even notice. Moreau is down in the ruins. He's been down there for nearly a week because of some new discovery."

"What're the ruins?" asked Winthrop.

Javari bit her lower lip. "He's tunneled down three miles into the mantle, because he's found it."

"Found what?" asked Karla.

The wolverine swallowed and offered them a nervous chuckle. Finally she said, "Atlantis. There are more artifacts than you guys thought. Three more. A staff, a seed and a crystal shard, buried inside a generator in Atlantis. Turns out that this thing is the most important piece because it generates the power necessary to run the entire continent."

"Atlantis was an entire continent?" asked Conner. "I thought it was just a really big city."

"It was an entire nation," replied Javari. "I've been analyzing and working on their computers that have been found scattered all over the Atlantic seabed, buried under a mile of muck, sand and silt for thousands of years. During the first explosion, Atlantis was apparently high above the surface. It fell to the ocean and stayed on the surface for one hundred years. They began warring with other surface nations to gain a source of labor and resources. They wanted to build themselves back up. They went out of their way to erase records of their cataclysmic failure – everything from library burnings all the way to creating lies. They were vain creatures. In the end, there was a mighty war that happened with a Mediterranean Nation… something went wrong and there was another explosion. Atlantis sunk into the sea and disappeared – it took a matter of hours for it to sink. But it was domed and the survivors were safe from the sea. Moreau thinks they managed to burrow the entire capital city into the surface to hide in shame or out of fear and humility. He located the entire city three miles into the mantle. Or at least he thinks he has. I've not seen him in a week."

Conner nodded and brought a paw back to his ear. "Dawn… I'm okay… we need to find Sergei Gurlukovich. Also, Javari wants me to take Epinephrine. So can you plot us a course to a medical station, then to wherever Surge is located… Shortest distance, fastest time."

"You got it… and I'm sorry about the woman who looks like your mother. Karla went easy on her… but in the end, she only did what she had to do out of self defense and…"

"Dawn… let's just… not go there."

"Right, sorry." She cleared her throat gently over the earpiece and said, "Third floor – there's an emergency medication station. It's currently void of people. Then you'll have Javari lead you to a building on the corner of St. Olga and Broadview. It's a rundown looking factory on the surface but the second sub-floor has a laser cage cell. I'll cut power to that sector when you guys get close. After that, Javari can show you where everyone else is being kept. I hope you find Mrs. Cooper – I have a good feeling, though. Stay positive."

"I will," he replied in a soft voice. Conner pressed the elevator call button and stepped over the lifeless vixen on the ground. He tightened his jaw, trying to keep his emotions in check but his chest ached horribly in pain and his legs felt like jelly. He felt torn apart inside and Javari had to help him walk. Once slumped against the elevator wall, everyone piled in and they went up to the third floor.

* * *

**The raccoon brought a paw to his neck, scratching gently.** He was now back on his feet from the shot of adrenaline and having a difficult time focusing. The building was eerily empty on the first floor. They went down a set of stairs, following Javari who, on the last step, lifted her paw. Conner, Karla and Winthrop came to a stop.

Karla brushed passed everyone, including Javari and said, "Let me handle this." There were two guards at the end of a hallway. They approached Karla, guns lowered.

"Miss, you can't be here," said one of the men. "It's a restricted zone and only three people have permission to be here."

Karla hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to Javari at the corner. "You mean her, Carmelita Fox and Doc Moreau? Yeah, well… see, there's a problem with that: I'm Karla." She sauntered towards them in the gray-on-black camouflage clothing. "But I'm cute in my new outfit, right boys?"

"Well, yes miss but the fact remains…" The guard looked up the hall to the girl on the last step, poking her head around the corner. "Miss Ahma, he's awake right now but you're not able to go back there either."

"Why not?" asked Javari, keeping a paw behind her back to signal for Winthrop and Conner to hold back a bit.

"We have a new prisoner, who tried to break into the facility about thirty-six hours ago."

The other guard chuckled. "Yeah, said something about trying to find her twin sister – the woman is nuts. She doesn't have any family members in _this_ city, that's for sure."

The first guard waved a paw at hip level, gesturing for the other to be quiet.

Karla tilted her head and pointed behind the guards. "You mean _that_ girl?"

Both guards offered a dubious glare. The first shook his head. "I'm not falling for that."

Karla made a shot-in-the-dark guess. "Orange tiger with a pink nose, right?"

"How the hell…?" Both guards lifted their weapons and turned around to an empty hallway. Then, quite suddenly, they went flying down the hallway propelled by a telekinetic wave. They sailed through the open space then slammed into a wall at the far end. The concrete held firm but cracked from the double impact.

Karla sauntered down the hall, casually calling back to the rest. "Coast is clear, boys and girls." She approached the two fallen, unconscious guards then pivoted her head to the left, looking at Keri and Sergei sitting in a cell comprised of laser bars. "Look at _you_ two."

Winthrop approached his wife and grinned at the two younger people. "We're here to rescue you!"

Conner and Dawn approached the gate.

Keri stood up, wide eyed. "Dawn! Conner! I couldn't find my sister anywhere so… I thought she might be here. I found the room where they're keeping the cryogenic bays. Everyone is there except Mrs. Cooper and my sister. I have no idea where she could be."

"I'm sorry," said Conner, adding, "Dawn and I will get you two out of there. We can use your help. Sergei… how long have you been a prisoner of this place?"

Surge's tired eyes lifted. He was thinner than Conner remembered and his voice was a little deeper. His Russian accent was no longer nearly as thick. "I've lost track of time. A few years. Maybe three."

Dawn moved to the control panel and began to disassemble it, muttering, "Jesus – that's just not right," under her breath.

Conner took his family cane and approached Dawn. "Back up, I'll get this." He clinched his paw tightly and the golden scepter began to glow. The bars fizzled out and the control panel dimmed. "C'mon out, guys." He watched as Keri and Sergei left the cell then he drew his paw away from the panel. The system rebooted and the laser bars returned.

The raccoon turned back to his girlfriend and said, "We need to relocate you to another safe place, where you can continue to monitor our progress. Javari thinks that there's an accessible computer station where the cryogenic room is located. Let's go there next then you can start trying to hunt for wherever else they could be keeping mom."

"All right, sweetheart." She turned to Keri and Sergei and smiled. The Russian coyote wrapped his arms around Javari in silence. Dawn hugged Keri and Conner put his cane back into the leather holster.

Cooper cleared his throat and said, "See, Surge? I still use the leather holster you gave me all those years ago. It works well." He turned about to display it, including the Staff of Moses that was slid in beneath the belt strap at an opposite angle to his family cane. "We should get the hell out of here."

Javari waved a paw, gesturing for everyone to follow her. "This way, everyone. Stay in a group line so we can keep together."

They went upstairs, left the quiet building and trekked down the street. Javari announced, "It isn't far. We've got to hurry, though. The city starts to wake up, in a manner of speaking, in less than an hour. It's not far, though."

No one said anything. Within fifteen minutes, they reached a two story square brick building. Javari frowned and told them, "This one is guarded. Six people run the first floor, four operate the first sub-level floor. We've got to work together quickly so we can take them all down before anyone can call for backup."

Conner lit up with a lopsided grin. "I'll not be able to fight if I do this but I'll charge up and see if I can't block out all electronic transmissions."

Winthrop withdrew a handgun then a silencer, attaching the lengthy barrel. "Karla and I will do our best. Javari, you keep your head down," he nodded to Keri and Sergei. "That goes for you two, too." He narrowed his gaze at Keri, adding, "You're injured. You should get that looked at."

Keri nodded, favoring her wrist. "I'll be fine. It's a two week old injury, it's just… getting infected without care."

"Okay," said Karla. "Everyone stick to the plan. Ten guys on two floors. We'll do one floor at a time, so we're not overwhelmed. Ready?"

"You can handle a gun?" asked Conner.

Winthrop chuckled. "I _was_ employed by Interpol for a good number of years. I wasn't just a pencil pusher – I spent a lot of time in the firing ranges at my precinct."

"Let's do this," said Karla confidently. "Everyone else stay behind. Don't go standing outside, either. I don't want anyone getting spotted." Karla tugged on the front door but it was locked.

"Teleportation?" asked Conner.

The felox huffed then waved a paw. The front door ripped from its hinges. She guided the door away from the broken hinges and quietly laid it down against the wall without a sound. "In, everyone." She and Winthrop walked in first, followed by Javari, Surge, Conner and Dawn.

Once inside, Cooper gripped his family cane tightly, causing it to glow brightly. The group spotted the first guard who seemed to panic. He reached for his radio but quickly realized that it was plagued with static. He went for his sidearm.

"Stand down," demanded Winthrop in a take-charge tone. The guard didn't listen and Winthrop pulled the trigger. The average-build canine dropped his weapon on the floor. He lowered to his knees then dropped to the left in silence.

"You told him," said Karla.

Winthrop frowned. "I've never shot anyone before."

"I'm impressed, baby," she replied with a grin, patting his rump. "You've really got my attention," she said with a bright smile. "Can I keep _this_ Winthrop?"

"I don't have a return policy," he remarked.

Karla deadpanned. "Are you trying to be cool?"

"I… yeah."

"Don't," she replied with a smirk. "I like you the way you are – I married you without the cool-guy pity remarks. Lose'em."

"They're lost," he murmured, raising the pistol ninety degrees. He knelt and picked up the weapon lying on the floor then pocketed it. "Let's go. Nine guards to go."

Karla gestured for everyone to follow. She and Winthrop took point and, at the next turn, they came up behind another guard who was walking away from the group. He had a cellular phone in his paw, text messaging someone. The man sighed despondently and said, "God, you stupid… You don't even listen; I told you I'm at work. That's it… I'm breaking up with this lousy…"

Karla waggled a finger. His cellphone went flying out of his paw and bounced across the floor. She then lifted her left paw and wiped her right one from right to left. The man lifted from the ground then slammed into the right wall then flew to the left, hitting the opposite bulkhead. He went completely through the concrete wall on the left with only his legs jutting out through the hole.

"That… was effective," said Winthrop. "Damn, hon. Now I know why you volunteered to help them. You're their offense."

"Yeah, no kidding," replied Dawn softly. "Are you guys going to split up and go around the interior of this building in opposite directions? That way we can take them down in half the time."

"Fine with me," said Karla. She hooked a thumb to the left, "Go ahead, baby. I'll go right."

"Okay, stay safe," replied the weasel with a nod. He went to the left and Karla went to the right. Everyone else stayed with Conner at the main entrance. Karla Weasel stalked proudly through the hallway. She saw a guard up ahead and gritted her teeth. She pulled the man towards her and took him by the throat. Her left knee lifted, meeting his groin then she brought her head forward, head-butting him in the face.

He groaned, lying on the ground and scrambled for his weapon. Karla rolled her eyes then waves a paw. The man disappears then half-reappeared inside the ceiling, his legs dangling down from above.

Karla brushed his dangling left foot away and continued up the hall. Her ears flickered, hearing a metallic sounding click then a thump. "There's four," she murmured. Another guard came running up the hall in her direction, as though trying to get away from something. He spotted Karla and lifted a pistol.

"Seriously?" she chortled. She waved a paw. His pistol disappeared. His eyes widened and he clutched his chest, gurgling in pain. He panicked, slumping against the left-side wall.

"Talk about indigestion," she said with a pleasant smile. "That can't be good for you, having that thing inside your body like that." He struggled and slumped to the ground, unable to breathe or speak.

Winthrop came around the next corner, gun lifted in the air. "I took down two more…" he quirked a brow and nodded to the man struggling on the ground. "What's… what's wrong with him?"

"He pointed his weapon at me so I fed it to him." She turned about and hooked a thumb back towards the entrance. "Let's get everyone and find the stairs or an elevator. Four to go."

He couldn't help but stare at the man who clutched at his chest, lying on the floor. "Jesus. Did you have to make it so painful?"

Karla sighed and reached for her husband's gun. "Gimmie that." She pointed the weapon at the man and shot him in his forehead. He went motionless. She shoved the gun back into Winthrop's grasp. "Happy now? I wasted a bullet. I use what I have, babe."

"Can't you, uh… I don't know, rip them apart or something quick?"

"Oh come off it," she snorted. "Besides, even if I could separate limbs – which I've tried and cannot do – the fact remains that we don't want to have a blood bath… at least I'm not into that. It's tacky... distasteful. Red belongs on dresses, fingernails," she continued for a moment longer than paused and glanced at him with a grin. They rounded the corner together, coming before Javari, Dawn, Conner and Keri.

"Okay," announced the felox with a flourish, preening for everyone, "It was six against six… tough odds, huh? Seriously though, where are the stairs, Javari?"

Ahma took the lead. They headed to a door directly across from the main entrance. She held it open for Karla and Winthrop who descended first. Once everyone was on the lower floor, Javari said, "Conner… don't use your little… trick thing, here. Sensitive equipment; if anything stops working… it could be bad for your family and everyone else."

All four guards quickly approached from the left and right hallways. Karla lifted her paws, elbowing Winthrop to do the same. He lifted his paws and dropped his gun but caught it against his shoe then nudged it away. The other four lifted their paws as well, in front of the armed guards.

"That went well," murmured Keri.

"Oh stop; have some dignity," said Karla with a smirk. "Okay, boys. You speak English right? Your associate upstairs did, so… I'm assuming. Anyhow, you win. We surrender and stuff." Then she wiggled her paws. All four guards disappeared.

A pause, then Conner asked, "Where'd they go?"

Karla shrugged and smiled. "Javari, take us to the lab."

The wolverine blinked then nodded. "Where are they?"

"Who cares?" She grinned at her husband. "They didn't feel a thing."

Conner frowned. "They were buried in the concrete just outside of these walls." He nodded to Javari who in turn began walking away from the stairs. Everyone followed her. She approached two metallic blast doors and waved an entry pass in front of the scanner. The doors slowly opened, drawing apart. "I guess, after a few years, I've earned that moron's trust." She lifted a paw, gesturing forward. "Everyone is in there except for Mrs. Carmelita Fox… er, Cooper." She bit her lower lip and waited for everyone to head into the lab.

Javari followed them in and closed the lab doors behind herself. Along the walls were massive glass-like tubes. They were covered in frost, barring visual from their contents. She approached one and wiped her paw across the front. Within, looking similar to a statue, was Jing King. The panda's eyes were shut with a look of calm. Ahma swallowed and announced, "I've found Jing."

Karla approached one, wiping her hand across the front. She cleared the ice from the front and said, "This one is your sister, Conner."

Winthrop folded his arms, looking uncomfortable about the entire situation. Meanwhile, Keri approached a wall-mounted tube and cleared the frost, announcing, "Penelope's husband is in this one. She used to visit you from time to time in the hospital, Conner."

Dawn cleared the front panel of one and said, "The bishonen is in this one," in reference to the golden-furred jackal, Kalen Vai.

"Murry here," said Javari, clearing off another.

Conner approached one and placed both of his paws against the frozen top and wiped his palms downwards. "…Dad." His voice was soft but everyone stopped to look at him. He gazed over his silent father with an eerie calm. "I _would_ have to find you, wouldn't I," he murmured. "We're going to get everyone out. Dawn, Javari, do what you have to do to figure out how to get everybody thawed out." He glanced over his shoulder and said, "Winthrop, could you please stay here and keep them safe? Apparently you're quite the sharpshooter and I'd feel comfortable if you stayed with them." He then turned to look over his other shoulder and said, "Keri, you need medical attention. Stay here and treat your wounds. I saw you manhandle those guys on the plane – you know how to fight if push comes to shove so stay here, because everyone is going to need help when they wake up. Maybe two of you can locate some food or… something. Karla and I will take care of unfinished business."

"What's your plan?" asked Dawn.

"Moreau, of course." Conner frowned. "I know all of you deserve to help me take him down but… stealth is important. She can disappear and teleport me if we're in a pinch. She's the obvious choice for this mission."

"It's not some 'mission' anymore," said Dawn, approaching the other raccoon. "People are going to die tonight. Many already have. When you kill Moreau, we'll set off some sort of evacuation alarm to buy cover. There are more than enough escape pods. We'll all meet up in the keys, where Penelope and Stephan are holding down the fort."

Karla nodded. "Our son is there, too." She hugged Winthrop then Dawn. "You guys stay safe, okay? This could take a while so stay low." She turned to Javari and said, "Get plenty of food – you said you still have a little while before things get started around town. Don't let anyone see you if possible. For all we know, you might be holed up in here until tomorrow so… just… whatever."

Winthrop frowned. "What about guard change? When the next shift comes, they're going to find out that their associates are dead or missing."

Javari patted his shoulder and said, "No worries. Usually this place has two guards in the morning and two guards at night. There are two mid-day guards to create overlapping coverage but… _everyone_ works Sunday morning because it's when the whole town is quiet and Moreau seems to think that a smart attacker would choose the night when the city is dead. For six hours every Sunday morning, the entire company is on duty. They typically play cards or something."

A snicker erupted from the golden-haired felox. "We took out the entire troupe. No one is coming to fill in for the next shift."

"Nice," murmured Conner, still looking up at his silent, motionless father.

"That's a relief," added Winthrop. He turned to Javari and said, "Let's go get food together. You'll know where to go and where to get it. Dawn can start the preparation procedures by doing whatever is necessary… computer-wise."

Javari nodded. "I remember going through this stuff to free Karla." She cut her gaze to the half-breed then back to Conner and Dawn. "These computers are done the old fashion way… simple computer stuff. Dawn will be able to figure it out faster than me. Have at it, honey."

Dawn nodded. "I'll figure it out. It's going to take about six hours before they're walking and talking from what I've read in Moreau's private logs. I'll see you guys when you get back." She turned to Karla and Conner. "I love you, Conner. I'm your girl so come back to me in one piece because I'll worry until we're in Florida, watching the news."

"It'll most likely get covered up," said Keri.

Sergei chuckled. "If you can't trust the government to be honest, at least you can trust the people to spread rumors." He approached Conner and they embraced in a masculine hug. "Thanks for coming to the rescue, everyone. It's good to be free, although truthfully… there is being none of us free until such time as we're off this abomination. Make haste – that blue-butted freak is up to no good. I'd love to help take him down for all he's done for _me_ but… It's best I stay here and let you two level this place."

The raccoon's phone chirped, followed with a monotone voice over the speaker. "You're all pathetic and need to stow your emotions if you hope to have any chance of success."

The teenage boy rolled his eyes. "Long story, everyone. Don't mind ole' doom'n'gloom over here." Conner nodded to Sergei, patting the weary-looking coyote on his back. "No worries. Take care of my girl until I get back. I want to know she's safe." He turned to Winthrop and said, "Give him the extra gun you found earlier." He then turned to Karla and said, "Beam us out."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Karla saluted everyone then, quite suddenly, she and Conner disappeared.

Once outside, Cooper put his earpiece back into his ear, clipped it and cleared his throat. "Okay, Dawn. You're my lifeline. Get us out of the street and down to wherever Moreau is supposedly hiding out."

Her voice was thin over the line. "Okay, make for the nearest manhole cover you can find. We'll finish getting the tubes unfrosted then wake everyone up and I'll let you know their status as they come around. Head towards downtown once you're underground. From there, I'll tell you what's next."

"Gotcha." Cooper pulled out his family cane and pried off a manhole cover. "Ladies first," he said to Karla. "God I'm trembling all the pent up emotions. I can't wait to find this guy."

Karla sat down on the street and slid her legs into the opening. "It's probably the adrenaline – we _did_ give you a shot of epinephrine. I don't know how long before it wears off but just… try and stay calm, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he replied in a soft voice.

* * *

A/N: _I'm at Myrtle Beach with Dawn and finished this chapter at midnight, while sitting out on the beach near the 14__th__ street pier. Dawn, the real one, is sleeping on a sheet laid out in the sand. I'm sitting here writing this author's note with the wind in my hair, about forty feet from where the waves are breaking. Fifteen feet away, the surf is coming up over the sand. I love it. Behind me, about 50 yards or so, people are getting on this silly ride that catapults them about fifteen stories into the air on a swing suspended between two poles by bungees. So the calm, soothing crash of the ocean and moderate breeze is being punctuated by occasional screams from inebriate females. How hot is that? xD_

_Thanks for reading! Chapter 31 is going to be the final battle! Time to find, as Sergei so eloquently words it, "The blue-butted freak." Elegant isn't he? Okay, I'm finished this chapter – time to pack up my sheet and my stuff and head back to the car, then back to the hotel. I've not slept since Monday, because I've not had the chance to. Not only that but Satuday night was on a sofa, Sunday night was for a few hours in Delaware, Monday night was a few hours at my place. Woo! Then Dawn and I got into the car Tuesday night after having a full day of doing stuff... and we drove here. I think I'm ready to go to bed. I was going to sit down and give this chapter the ultra-editorial but... I'm tired. So... I'll fix it later, post-posting, lol. _

_And who liked seeing Karla and the clone of Carmelita exchange snipes? Dawn was fully amused when I read it to her while she was driving last night. _

_See you guys soon!_

_-Kit _


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter -31-

**The hinged panel opened with ease**. Conner helped Karla into the access panel. She began crawling and Conner climbed in behind. They carefully manipulated the pipes and electrical conduits as they maneuvered through on their knees.

"Good thing I'm not wearing a skirt," she said quietly.

"Yeah, no kidding," he replied then blinked. "Wait a minute, I thought… Earlier you were running around the subsections naked, propositioning both Dawn and me. What do you _mean_ you're glad you're not wearing a skirt?"

"I've got my husband back, I don't need anyone else – I'm not alone anymore." She continued to crawl, her eyes narrow and her pupils dilated. Both of them, with their natural nocturnal vision, moved through the gloom with ease. She told him, "We're not much further, now." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Sounds like fun." He reached down and patted his phone. "Clockwerk, you still there?"

"Reception has dropped from six bars to three, even with your cellular signal booster. You're approximately two miles into the Earth's crust. I admit I am fairly impressed by Stephan's gadget to provide reception at this depth."

"Glad you're happy. I bet you were _also _glad to see my father perfectly preserved, too." There was no reply from the phone's speaker. Conner grinned, still climbing carefully through the maintenance tube. "No comment, huh? Fair enough. Then stay quiet until you have something important to say." Again, no reply. The couple waded through the darkness without a word.

_Meanwhile_…

**Javari Ahma** pointed to two more tubes at the end of the line and said, "That one is Thomas Gerard, I remember him; he came in with us during our 'raid'. But who is _this_ guy?" she walked to the adjacent cryo-bed and rubbed at the glass then motioned to it.

Sly rubbed his chin. "Arty Crowell. And here I thought he was dead. I'll be damned." He walked back to Gerard and narrowed his eyes. "This guy… he turned out to be trouble, huh? He was taking bribes from Doc M." Sly told the story for Dawn, who didn't know all the details from the first team's capture. "He was asked to leave and would have been allowed to live just fine with all his money… but at the last minute, after it was way too late… he had a change of heart and wound up captured with the rest of us. What a piece of work." He walked back to Bentley's cryo-tube then moved over to Murray, who sat in a pair of over-stretched sweatpants and a quilted bed comforter.

Dawn sat up in her chair, eyes wide. "I think I found her! This _has_ to be it!"

Sly and Murray sat on the floor, watching the monitor as Bentley's thaw status auto-updated on the screen above his chamber. Cooper murmured, holding the blanket that was draped over his shoulders, "I should go."

Murray, unusually quiet from feeling lousy, said, "Should I go with you, buddy?"

Sly shook his head. "I think you should stay here and keep everyone safe." He pointed to Winthrop across the room. "But he has a gun and Dawn says he's a good shot. I'll need that kind of help, big guy, but protecting these guys is insanely important, big guy."

Winthrop approached Sly and Murray who spoke amongst themselves. He looked from the hippo to the raccoon and asked, "Did I hear you right, Mister Cooper?"

"Just… Sly, pal. Yeah, I need you to help me rescue my wife. Are you in?"

Winthrop pursed his lips together. He recalled fighting Carmelita's clone and sighed with a hint of guilt in his eyes. "Yeah. I feel like I owe her."

"Why? She treated you pretty poorly as an intern – why would you feel like you owed her something?"

Weasel swallowed, locking his gaze with Cooper. "You noticed?"

"Sure did," replied the raccoon, slowly getting to his feet. He stretched then tightened the blanket-sized beach towel about himself. "You really tried hard to impress her and no one can take that away from you but in the end you got quite a good deal. Young lil' half-vixen with killer hips, thighs and everything else. Beautiful eyes; she's super smart and supposedly she's built for passion and pleasure so… you've got quite a deal."

Winthrop stared at Sly for a moment then said, "Have some respect… Killer hips and thighs? Built for passion and pleasure? You're talking about my _wife_ like that. She's not a piece of meat." He lifted his paws rather suddenly and frowned. "I'm sorry – I don't mean to get defensive with you. I don't have a beef with you anymore… haven't in ages. Yeah, Karla is the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's wonderful. We don't always see eye to eye but that's because we give one another the power to hurt each other… That's sorta' what love is, right? Giving one another power over the other."

Sly nodded. "Treating that power with respect is the sign of a healthy relationship." He approached the chamber holding Carmen and placed a paw on the glass above her face. "Carmelita gave me something more important than any heist _ever_. My children are the world to me… Right now, Conner has worked himself to the bone, apparently, to save us all… _and_ to do what _we_ could _not_ do… get vengeance. I'm scared to death he could die tonight… but with all that he has on his plate, I couldn't ask him to look for his mother… so if anyone is to do it…"

Winthrop nodded in understanding. "It should be you. It's a shame Carmen isn't awake yet. I understand what you mean about your children. Raising Donovan has been amazing."

Sly nodded. "Donovan, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied with a light smile. "She named him after a man who saved all of your lives back in Prague, years ago. I take it you obviously knew him. Either way, Donovan has been amazing and the most important thing in my life ever. But as a man, I'm sure you know what I mean when I say that as important as my children are… my mate means the world to me. I love Karla and spending a little time away from her has made me realize how foolish I was for letting her go. On that note, I'm sure you feel the same way about _your_ wife… so… maybe we have more in common than I originally thought – I'll help you."

"I appreciate it," returned Sly in a softer, humble voice. "So… allies?" He offered a paw.

"I'm ready," Winthrop told him with a firm shake. "Maybe, for once, Carmelita will actually notice that I'm not _useless_ after all. I don't care that she appreciates it… but after years of not getting noticed… it would be nice to close out that part of my life with a little irony and justice."

"Well then let's go," said Sly. He took the towel-like blanket off and handed it to Murray. "Give this one to Bentley when he wakes up." He then turned to Dawn and said, "I hope you're as good of a logistical person as Conner once bragged. Did you tell Conner I'm awake yet?"

She placed a paw over her headset and in a soft voice said, "He needs to focus right now… I'm saving it for when he needs good news, you know? We don't have communicators so I'll do my best to keep an eye on the security footage and computer systems to track your progress. I'll do what I'm able to help you as you make progress, but we won't have live communication – I'm sorry."

"It's okay," replied Sly. He turned to Winthrop and said, "All right… We're probably going to have to fight – you're good with that, right?"

"I am." Winthrop approached Dawn and looked over her shoulder at the computer monitor. "Where are we in relation to where Carmelita is located?"

"Remember the tall building?" asked the female raccoon. "She's kept in Moreau's personal penthouse on the top floor… it won't be easy. But if you guys find her, I want you to write out a note and hold it up to the nearest security camera… any camera. Then I'll send Murray, once you've cleared the path… We'll locate a mover's dolly and he'll bring Carmelita back. However!" She raised her voice to grab their attention. "Without consistent coolant, she'll begin to heat up… so clearing out a path for Murray is the best bet… you have to be _fast_ or she'll begin to thaw naturally. IF that happens, her cells will be damaged from the normal parameters of 'cold', her brain tissue, her organs, everything… she'll die and will be beyond medical repair. Your best bet is to get her from the top floor and back to this building… in thirty minutes or less. But in order not to attract attention, I suggest Mister Cooper find some real clothes first. Also, when I send Murray, he'll have a tarp to drape over the unit."

Sly pursed his lips. "I don't like that Murray will have to come out and help us… what if someone finds you guys and attacks?"

Javari cleared her throat. "Sergei and I can hold our own. Just go… find Carmelita, bring her back and hook her up to these machines so you can wake her properly." She approached Sly and removed her personal pass keycard. "Take this. It will get you into Moreau's penthouse suite. It's not an all-access card but it works as Security Level _four_. It's the second highest in the city. Moreau is the _only_ one with a level _five_ card. And Dawn is right, find something more than those shorts I've leant ya'. Seriously."

Sly rubbed the backside of his head. "How did you get his trust enough to gain that kind of access?"

Javari shrugged. "Carmelita was the only one with level four and I got it from her pocket when Karla and Winthrop overpowered her. I had a level three card and only because I earned Moreau's trust after several years. As much as I hated being a pawn… it kept me _and_ Sergei very much alive."

Sly blinked. "What was the part about overpowering Carmelita?"

Winthrop placed a paw on Sly's shoulders. "It's not what you think. And since you may see her in the lobby of the building where we're headed… I want you to take a deep breath and listen carefully… Apparently, Doctor M cloned your wife and gave her limited memories. He had her running the city as an enforcer, leading her to believe that she was helping him to save the world by protecting the citizens of this city from themselves while he utilized the city to harness some sort of greater good from the planet… Needless to say, she didn't remember the incident on Kane Island and never knew him as the thug he'd become… she thought she was helping him to find artifacts necessary to _save_ the world from a cataclysm. She went out of her way to stop us and still thought of you as a villain. We… had to… stop her."

Sly nodded in silence. "You said I'll probably see her in the lobby of that building?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"I understand," replied Cooper. "You've got Javari's card, so… let's go." They headed for the staircase, up to the next level, out into the street and began walking.

Within ten minutes Sly and Winthrop were standing outside of a closed clothing store across the street from the tallest building in the city. Winthrop put his back against the store glass, arms folded.

"I can't believe I'm helping you to steal something," Winthrop said while Sly began picking the lock on the main doors. "But I understand why."

"Thanks." Cooper eased the doors open and reached through the bars just beyond. He turned the deadbolt and pushed the bars open on their metal tracks then waved Winthrop to follow. The weasel closed the glass doors behind himself then slid the metal rolling bars shut.

Once inside the fashionable clothing store, Sly began walking through, looking for something to wear. "I'm lucky to have had this pair of shorts to wear. If Javari didn't bring back some stuff for us to eat and for us to wear, I'd be walking around naked right now."

Winthrop glanced through the bars, out into the street. A woman in a leotard ran by, jogging to the music of her decade-old iPod. He turned back to Sly and said, "Yeah, that would draw attention. It's bad enough you didn't have a shirt to wear."

"I can't help it," said Sly. "Fabric falls apart when it's frozen to negative two hundred degrees Celsius. So…" He lifted a pair of pants, a nice shirt and a matching button-up shirt in one paw. In his other paw, he lifted a polo shirt with a sleeveless vest. "Jock or Prep?"

Winthrop threw his paws into the air. "Do I look like Martha Stewart? I don't have an eye for fashion or whatever!"

"I think she was food and house cleaning products, bud. But at least I'm old enough to get your joke."

"True," murmured the weasel. "Kids these days don't know jack about anything from last generation, let alone their parent's generation. So …how about you wear some clothes and lets get the hell out of here. Or you can always check the prices for each and decide the way everyone else decides… by wallet contents."

Sly grinned. "Nice." He broke the tag off the shirt, pulled it on then slid the button-up shirt on but left it open. He tossed the polo shirt to the floor and pulled on the sleeveless sweater then said, "I decided to mix and match a little bit." He carried the pants to a nearby changing booth and disappeared within. After a moment, the feminine shorts, cut large for the wolverine's body, were ejected over the top of the changing room door. They landed on the floor near Winthrop who shook his head slowly.

The raccoon emerged with a grin. He walked to the wall and picked up a pair of shoes in his size. He removed them from the box, pulled the stuffing out of the new shoes, snagged a pair of socks off a nearby rack and finished getting dressed.

Winthrop, arms still folded, shook his head again then said, "Well, you look fashionable. At least ten years younger."

"Good deal – I still feel like I'm in my thirties so it kind'a works for me." He walked by Winthrop and patted the weasel's shoulder. "You want to update your look before we go or are you all set?" Cooper began picking out clothes for Murray then draped them over his arm. "I'll just leave these in the lobby for the big guy, when he shows up. So, you good?"

Weasel sighed with a roll of his eyes. "I have a great job. If I want to look like a frat boy again, I'll go buy something. Let's go." He opened the bar gate then slipped out through the front door.

Sly followed and locked up behind himself. "Okay, I'm ready to impress my girl." He crossed the street with Winthrop and opened the main doors to the lobby of the large building. Cooper swallowed and said, "It's a good thing the glass entrance is tinted with silver film. Good grief, look at this place."

Winthrop nodded slowly and crossed the room. He knelt besides the body of a red-furred vixen and placed his palm on her forehead. "She's still… warm." He pursed his lips, stood up and turned away from her. "God that's… I have mixed feelings over it."

Sly stepped over the chandelier, through the plaster and broken bits of a desk and stopped, seeing Carmelita's clone. His stomach turned. "Carmelita." His heart dropped and his throat closed. He tried looking away but couldn't. Sly dropped to his knees and took her head into his lap. "I… I can't believe… It's harder to see it in person."

"I know." Winthrop sighed. A noise startled him into drawing out his gun with the silencer still attached. He turned towards the clump of glass and metal twisted up on the floor near the wall. A groan caused his ears to flicker. Slowly, the weasel approached the fallen chandelier. "What the hell…?"

Another groan. Winthrop used his foot and pushed away part of the fixture to uncover Cunningham. "Resilient bastard," he mused. "You're crushed by a fallen light fixture, bloodied to a pulp… but still alive, huh?"

"You," said the bulldog, looking passed Winthrop. "I should kill you."

Sly, still grieving over the fallen vixen, glanced over his shoulder with narrow eyes. "Screw off. You and your brother… you're both far from immortal. It looks like you got your tail handed to you so just shut up." He pulled Carmelita's head up onto his lap much the way his son did, earlier.

The bulldog pulled himself forward but was still partially trapped beneath the massive pile of twisted metal and glass. He saw Carmelita's body; his demeanor changed. "She was the boss… one hell of a woman – I have a new respect for her now that I've worked for her under Moreau."

Winthrop lowered his weapon, pointing it at Cunningham. "Shut up."

"Let him speak," said Sly quietly. He changed his attention back to the gravely injured canine. "So you fared poorly against us in Russia quite some time back… but now you like her?"

"She was my boss. I know she wasn't the real Carmelita Fox. I'm one of the only people who knew – even _she_ had no idea the big boss created her and gave'er select memories. But I worked with her for a few years, now. I respect her – she's tough as hell and down to business. I'd take a bullet for her and she would've done the same. Good woman… Her death is a needless waste; luckily she's not truly, permanently dead."

Sly gently laid her head on the floor and approached Muggshot's brother. "So it's true… If you want to preserve her memory or… whatever… then keep your yap shut. We're here to rescue the real Carmelita. She's on the top floor."

"If you unhook her from that machine, she'll die instantly. It's designed with a battery to blow up the chamber if the cryo-bed is unhooked."

Gritting his teeth, Sly squatted down in front of the injured canine. He casually draped his arms over his knees like the catcher position from a baseball team. "Okay, I'll say this once… if you don't help us get her out of here, so I can save her life, then I'll take yours… right now."

"No need," said Cunningham. "I'm not going to stop you from taking her… The lady earned my respect and she deserves to live, even if you don't. And your threat is meaningless, I don't have long."

"Don't be a fool," said Winthrop, standing behind Sly. "We can get you out of there – no need to be dramatic."

"It's not from my injuries," said the bulldog. "I have advanced stages of cancer. It's useless to hide it anymore… I was diagnosed four years ago and Moreau won my aid by offering treatments that aren't legal. I should have _died_ years ago… or, worse, I should be exhausted and hairless from the normal cancer therapies… but I'd rather _be_ dead then _feel_ dead. Damn… the thing is everything seems inevitable at this point. It's weird… knowing you're dying but not feeling it or physically realizing it." (A/N: _Didn't see this coming? Check the end of chapter 15._)

"Jesus," said Winthrop with a frown. "How long do you have?"

"Not long," said the man. "Funny thing is, I don't feel a thing. Not tired… I feel nothing. I wouldn't even _know_ if I wasn't watching it on monitors twice a week. I probably have less than a month at this point. The computer made a guesstimate that was sobering… by the end of this upcoming week. Look, I'll help you get her unhooked without setting off the countermeasures. But I'm not helping you do anything else… you're on your own after this. So don't '_eff_' everything up."

"Understood." Sly frowned. He helped the man out of the pile of rubble then gave him a stern pat on the back. A cloud of dust rose up off the man's shoulders before dissipating back into they cloudy air. "So why were you just lying in there?"

A sigh; the bulldog lowered his gaze to the ground. "I've lost my will, really. I was hoping I would die under all that crap – it's better to go out in battle than to go out with a whimper. Give me the guts and glory _any_ day. But Carmelita is worth saving now that I know her better, in a sense. Besides, there is plenty of guts and glory up on the top floor. I'm ready for it."

Cooper opened the elevator doors and everyone piled in silently. Sly touched the top button and folded his arms. The elevator doors closed and the car began to ascend in the shaft.

"If you only knew," said Winthrop with a shake of his head. "But it makes no difference right now – he's here to help us."

"What?"

"Nothing, Sly." Winthrop sighed. "I'll tell you after we rescue Carmelita."

"Tell me now."

"If I do that," Winthrop paused then shrugged. "You won't accept Mister Cunningham's help. You'll kill him on the spot. We _need_ his help… so I decided to bite my tongue instead."

Jasper frowned, realizing what Winthrop alluded to. "You were there that day in Tampa."

The weasel nodded. "I was and your actions were despicable. You're lucky I'm waiting to tell him, because you'd be in a great deal more pain otherwise."

Cooper appeared frustrated by the secret. He turned to the burly man"So why would you help the woman that put your brother behind bars two times?" asked Sly, as they passed the twenty-seventh floor.

The man leaned back against a reflective gold-polished rail bolted into the fancy wood-grain walls. "She rescued Tony from himself. He was sensitive to being picked on… and decided to try and make himself into something else. That led to mobster crime, which was far more dangerous than most normal criminals realize. What you said earlier… you were right – we're not immortal. He would have died eventually if he weren't in jail, safe from guns, jealous competitors and deals gone wrong. The family may have picked on him for being a runt… but we were just kids. The real life is dangerous and, if anything, Carmelita saved his life unbeknownst to him."

"I see." The raccoon glanced at the panel above the doors… they passed the sixty-fifth floor at a reasonably rapid pace. "How much resistance should we expect?"

"You'll be fighting for your lives. We may not make it," replied Cunningham. "My brother hates me; he holds his childhood against me. I was just a dumb kid – I didn't know I would cause him grief and turn him into a goon. I became a hired killer but _he_ took it to the next level. Now he's a danger to himself. I'm glad he's locked up; that keeps him alive. Last time I've seen him, though, he still had '_Death to Jay_' carved into his cell wall."

The elevator stopped on the top floor. The doors opened to a glass observation area that wrapped around the building on all sides, like a giant circle. At the center was a metal-walled area. The bulldog removed his keycard and waved it in front of the main entrance. "This area is a self-contained blast-proof, crush-proof, water-tight room. If Moreau was in danger, he could get inside of here and launch it up into the ocean. It has propulsion at the bottom, water and food… everything. It's a survival pod. However, it's also the safest place to keep Carmelita Fox without her clone finding out the truth." The panel on the side went through an illuminated combination sequence. After a moment, there was an airtight hiss then the sound of pressurization equipment… the doors slid apart.

The posh interior looked like a luxury condo from any one of a dozen Manhattan locations, up on the surface. The left wall was a shrine to all the artifacts that Moreau cared to display. Some were missing from their spaces, obviously with the doctor, down beneath the planet's crust. The three men ambled in coming face to face with professionally dressed armed guards.

"Jasper! What are you doing here? Why did you bring these people here?"

Cunningham grinned. "I'm here for her," said the bulldog, pointing towards a polished oak door on the far right. "You boys don't know this because that room is off limits… but there's a woman in there. I'm taking her with me."

The first guard shook his head. "We've received no such orders. Only Miss Fox or Doctor M gives orders like that. Turn around and leave."

The canine glanced over at Winthrop and Sly. "Ready, boys? It's time. If I'm killed, just remember this sequence… red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Finally, white then black. Any other order will kill her."

Winthrop withdrew his gun and said, "Roy G. Biv? Like the order of a rainbow's colors? They teach that in grade school; we won't forget it." The other guards raised their weapons, seeing the weasel's pistol. They began shouting at him to drop his weapon but he ignored them.

"The security code is 'two' in binary – a one then a zero." Cunningham drew out two large guns and pointed them forward. Sly recognized them as the weapons taken from him back in Russia. They still had the fingernail polish on the barrel sights from his wife. He immediately plugged his ears with his paws.

The double-fisted hand cannon shots reverberated with incredible force, causing everyone to shout in pain. Meanwhile, the first guard was thrown through the crowd of men and into the far wall. He dropped to the floor, dead. The other guards pulled their triggers on the sound-suppressed submachine guns they carried. Sly bowled Winthrop over. Jasper dove in the opposite direction as bullets riddled the floor and left pockmarks on the wall and main entrance.

Winthrop, lying beneath Sly, fired off two rounds. His pistol bucked gently without making much noise. Two rounds struck two different men in the torso, knocking them back. However, it didn't penetrate their armored vests.

Cooper made a break for the door on the right. All of his training and practice came back to him and time appeared to slow down as he utilized his ability to hyper focus on his surroundings. Each bullet left a trail, a ringed wake, as the blurry round flew by obscured within a vapor cone. He led the gunshots away from Winthrop and Jasper. They hit the walls, spraying back in all directions. As Sly ran, he passed the door on the right. Gunshots unintentionally struck the control panel, disabling it.

With a long, low pitched, drawn out grunt, Sly put his foot up on a nearby bookshelf against the wall then back-flipped off of it. He pivoted about slowly, closed his paw around a fistful of books then began hurling them at his attackers.

Regardless of his grace and speed, the world around Sly was perceived as incredibly slow. He danced about, evading shells narrowly. Each thrown book rolled in the air, end over end, until they collided with a guard's face or gun, one by one.

Meanwhile, Cunningham got up, half impressed by Sly's tenacity and equally dumbfounded that none of the other guards could apparently get a shot in.

Winthrop dashed to the left to get behind one of the artifact display cases. He used his pistol, shooting at the men while diving for cover. The guards got down behind living room furnishings, using the cushioned chairs, sofa and coffee table to their advantage.

Another guard fell back, struck hard in the face with a hardback novel. His gun left a line of marks up along the ceiling before he dropped to his back with a concussion. Sly then put his foot up on the wall and dove towards them. Rounds flew above and beneath him. One clipped his tail, removing some fur but missing anything vital.

Cooper tucked into a roll then came up on his feet and used his momentum to kick a cushioned recliner. Transferring all the energy from his body into the object caused it to lurch up. It knocked down the two men using it for cover and landed on another who was creeping alongside the nearby sofa.

Placing his paws on one of the men's chests, Sly moved into a handstand then kicked his legs, carrying himself over and gracefully lifting his opponent into the air. The man flew upwards then back down, landing on his feet in front of Sly.

Two gunshots struck the man that Cooper now used as a body shield. They were mostly absorbed by the man's armored vest. The raccoon reached into the man's hip holster, removed the weapon and pointed it backwards, squeezing the trigger. The other man who had been bowled over by the toppled recliner now called out in pain as the round struck him in the right hip.

Sly brought the weapon up to the head of his 'shield'. "You didn't even have your safety on, pal. That's dangerous – people get hurt when they play with guns." More gunshots rang out, striking the body shield in the shoulders, arms, legs and gut. He struggled, taking the brunt of the force intended for the raccoon.

His hostage slumped. Cooper gave him a hard shove, throwing him into another guard. Winthrop's pistol clicked again, striking the raccoon's disposed hostage behind the ear. The man fell to the ground, motionless. The man beneath shoved off his dead comrade, trying to shoot at Sly again.

Cooper drew his foot back and kicked the gun from the attacker's paws. A gunshot from the left startled Sly. However a simultaneous round from Winthrop's pistol struck the gunner just as he fired. The body twitch caused the attacker's round to miss Sly by mere inches.

Again, Cunningham's two magnums went off, deafening everyone in the room. Another body went flying through the air, propelled by the powerful rounds.

Out of nowhere, a punch caught Sly off guard. He doubled over from the surprise attack to his gut by another man off to his left. The man drew his fist back ready to strike Sly again but instead stumbled backwards from a gunshot to his forehead. He backed into the coffee table, which caused his knees to buckle. The man, dead instantly, flipped over, hit the sofa and bounced back to the floor between the two furnishings.

The coffee table overturned, spilling fifty-two playing cards to the floor. Only three guards remained, crouched behind the sofa and sporadically firing their weapons over the backrest. A stray round struck Cunningham, penetrating his ribcage and exiting through his mid back. Another round hit him in his left arm just above the elbow.

He dropped one of the large guns to the floor but pointed the other one forward and fired again much to everyone's dismay. The round punched through the sofa with ease, taking down another attacker. The two men left behind the backrest stood up and opened fire, spraying rounds at random.

Cunningham gave Winthrop a shove then stepped forward, taking a round in the weasel's place. Winthrop aimed his gun between Cunningham's legs and fired. His aim was true, striking one of the remaining gunmen in the neck. The man didn't appear to notice right away. He continued to fire his weapon until the magazine was empty. While reaching for a spare he began to waver then clutched at his throat. He backed up two steps then dropped to the floor, choking on blood.

The last man, seeing that he and his elite squad were manhandled, lifted his arms in defeat. He threw his gun back behind himself and clearly announced, "Hold your fire!"

Sly drew back his fist and struck the man in his right eye. The man doubled over, cupping his face with both paws. He screamed, "I surrender!"

With a grunt, Cooper shook his right paw to lessen the sting. "You guys are pretty tough. That would have leveled most people. It didn't even knock you out," he mused, speaking in an obnoxiously loud voice to talk over the loud ringing in his ears. He approached the injured man, lifted him up by his collar then hit him with the other fist. The man fell to the floor, motionless.

Winthrop shouted, "I think he was trying to give up!"

"I didn't hear him," said Sly, looking a little confused. "Jesus, I can't hear _anything_." He brought his paws to his ears, rubbing at them. "Thanks a lot, my ears are killing me!"

Winthrop shouted back, "He's not paying attention to you, Sly! He's injured! Get over here!"

"What?" Sly turned around then frowned, seeing Winthrop knelt over Jasper Cunningham. The raccoon approached the two men on the floor, swallowing repeatedly from the sensation of having his ears popped from altitude or something similar. "Air pressure on my ears was brutal… those guns should be illegal, especially indoors!"

"He can't breathe," said Winthrop, loudly. "He took a round in the chest. I think he has a collapsed lung, Sly!"

Cooper grabbed his left leg. "Get his right foot, let's go." He motioned for Winthrop to help. Together they dragged the heavy bulldog across the floor and into the room containing Carmelita Cooper, frozen in time. An ethereal evanescence surrounded the cryo-chamber against the far wall. Cooper released the dying canine's ankle and approached the glass tube. He wiped his paws over the front, looking at the unanimated face of his wife. "Hold on, baby," he said louder than initially intended. "We're getting you out of here, soon!" He hurried back to the living room and picked a book up off the floor. He ripped a nearly blank page out in the front of the damaged tome then threw it back on the floor.

"Pen!" shouted Cooper.

Winthrop tossed a pen through the doorway. Sly caught it and wrote on the paper, "SEND MURRAY – COAST IS CLEAR" in large letters. He ran back through the main entrance and approached a security camera located in the observation hall. He held the page up in front of the camera lens, willing himself to stay calm enough to keep from shaking the paper.

* * *

**The tube of power cables creaked gently** under the weight strain of both Karla and Conner. She slowed her crawling then lay down on her stomach. "I need a break. How much further?"

"Hey, I hear you, Karla. I've never crawled several miles through a maintenance tube, either." Cooper fished out his cellular phone and illuminated the display. He looked at the reception bars and smiled. "Okay, Clockwerk… how much further?"

"You're within another chamber. It's safe to exit the tube, provided you can find an opening. I'm not sure of your official location. It's possible you're in the ruins that Moreau supposedly located. If you leave the tube, reception will deteriorate, as it's been funneled through a signal booster somewhere in this tube. However, signal isn't strong enough to far beyond the safety of the tube.

Cooper put a finger to his Bluetooth earpiece. "I think we're here. What's the score up there?"

Dawn's voice crackled but was clear enough to understand. "Things are looking up, Conner. We don't have much longer, now. You've been crawling for hours on end. You _must_ be _exhausted_. Perhaps it would be wise to take a break before leaving the tube. I'm not sure how much time you have, though. Moreau hasn't showed up, even after we leveled his headquarters, took down some of his guards and began thawing out people… He's still down there, I'm sure of it. Stay safe. Rumor has it, he's been in the ruins for several days now… so he may have a camp set up."

"Understood," replied the raccoon. "We'll find him. Don't worry about me – I'll be fine. I meditated during the ride here… I'm good. Karla slept, too."

"Yeah," grumbled the felox. "Thanks to your stupid trick with the dart." She huffed, adding, "I'm content to take a little nap, right here. However, it's only a matter of time before the chaos above is funneled down the grapevine to soldiers, here."

"Let's find a hatch," said Conner. He crawled down further, passed her and wiggled by. "Follow me." Within minutes he located a tech hatch and opened it. Conner eased his head through the opening and looked out into the clearing. His eyes widened. "…Whoa."

"What?" asked Karla.

"I didn't expect this," he said in a soft voice. "This is… heavy." He couldn't think of any other word to describe what he saw at first. After another pause, he added, "This is intense. It's hard to swallow."

Karla climbed up, pushing her head through the opening by lying on Conner's back. "Wow. Look at the statues – they're lemurs." She paused then said, "Plato described Atlantis as being beyond the Pillars of Hercules… He said that Atlantis was a chain comprised of seven islands with the one at the center being the largest. The size of Libya and Asia Minor combined. He also said it was the only way to reach the massive continent on the other side… This is over fifteen hundred years before Christopher Columbus, Conner… Plato knew there was a continent… the Americas."

"How big was Libya and Asia Minor?" murmured Conner. "This place doesn't seem larger than a city."

"Libya, in ancient times, I'm not too sure about. But Asia Minor is several countries. Turkey, Hungary… that's Asia Minor. Part of Romania, too. It was a section called, "Wallachia," just southeast of Transylvania."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"They're all biblical areas," she explained. "Asia minor was important in the Book of Revelations. The end of days will start with a fantastic seven-city sign that starts in modern day Turkey. I'm fairly well versed in the Bible – your mother knows what I'm talking about." She squinted, looking over the city. "The buildings look like obelisks or something." She folded her arms, using them as a pillow between her chin and the backside of his head.

"Erosion happens," mused Conner, adding, "It really _looks_ like those buildings are about five-to-eight thousand years old. The air is so stale tasting that the lack of oxygen has probably preserved them." He withdrew his cellular phone and booted the camera application. Conner held up the device and snapped a picture then sent it to Stephan. He looked at his reception indicator again then smirked "Two bars. Reception is being funneled through the wire tubing that goes up into the crust." He dialed Stephan's contact number.

After a moment, the skunk answered but his voice was distorted. "Hey, old man, did you get the picture I just sent you via MMS?"

Stephan's voice was difficult to understand over the speakerphone. "…Conner… Center of the… moats was the temple. Our navy was the…" It crackled badly then the man's voice returned. "Council was five men. Three of which were Lemurs. Atlantis was never a true island; it was built in the sky, crashed to the ocean and never connected to the tectonic plates on the plant's surface. In the end… with the… because it wasn't meant to… the power of Atlantis was better hidden away because they wielded technology from extra terrestrial worlds. Survivors decided the catastrophe was karma – Atlantis sunk, not into the ocean, but into the planet. It was… thought to… No one wanted to clean up the mess and so… did NOT think anything existed! I'm extremely… my work still there… If you can find it for me; you should look in the… Fourth building directly west of the temple, provided the city didn't rotate while sinking into the ground."

Conner glanced up at Karla then back down into the dimly illuminated city. Moreau's cables hung in several places, extending far down to the ground and powering lamps throughout the entire area. "What are we getting again?"

"It's just… with the… on my work bench…box made of a metal that will look similar to polished onyx. Inside this box is the… Because… And… It's more dense than plastic but similar in nature. I want it so that it doesn't fall into the hands of anyone else, especially Moreau. Inside is a golden-colored metal, yellower than platinum, just as dense but half the weight. Again, it's called 'orichalcum'."

Cooper said, "We need to find a way to the surface but… I'll do my best." He disconnected the line and grumbled. "Great, on top of everything else… he's sending us on a delivery run. Stephan actually thinks some of his belongings will be in his old house or… whatever? Seriously, who does he think he is?"

"What if it contains something that could be used in a dangerous, negative way should it be found by someone like Moreau? Maybe he just wants to hide or destroy the contents before someone else discovers Atlantis? Or maybe he wants a five thousand year old reminder."

"I read that a stand of DNA can only exist for two hundred years before coming apart by degrading. How can he live for five _thousand_ or more years?"

"Think of it this way," she told him, climbing back into the tube. "If it's where he says it is… he's managed to prove his age claim. Right?"

"I suppose," said Conner. "Or that he works _with_ Moreau who reported some of the findings left in this city so far. And that would mean he and Moreau are in constant communication and that this box is more important to Stephan than it is to Moreau… just throwing out ideas, there."

Clockwerk chirped from his phone. "One bar of reception. Might I just say that Stephan is my inventor? He was older than metaphorical 'dirt' when he helped me to change my body into metallic parts."

"Shut up," murmured Conner. He climbed back into the tube, pulled the hatch shut and sighed. "Karla, did you see the three moats that surrounded the building at the center of the entire place? It was pretty intense, huh? It's a shame those moats are dry and empty now… I bet they would look insanely badass if they were full of water."

"They resemble the rings of a planet, like Saturn or something." She began to wiggle down into the tube again, crawling along her elbows and knees. Conner followed, heading down towards the surface of the buried island."

"This whole thing is making my head spin. Let's find Moreau and kill him then go home." Conner followed her into the depths of the tube full of power cables and supply conduits. Still several dozen stories above the city, they had a great deal more climbing and crawling left.

"I'm tired of this," murmured the felox. "Hold on." And in the next instant, they were on their hands and knees at the bottom of the outer third moat, at the temple perimeter. They climbed out, quickly realizing that the stale air was higher up in the buried dome, while Moreau pumped fresh oxygen into the city at street level. They headed west.

Several of the buildings looked strikingly modern but without glass pane windows. In the fourth dwelling, Conner and Karla came to another randomly hung electrical and air conduit. Conner snagged the end and carried it in through the doorway. "There's the box," he said, looking around the dimly lit room. A professional grade lamp was attached to the end of the suspended tubing.

Karla retrieved the onyx-like box and opened it, taking out a chunk of gold.

"That's it? He just wanted gold? Hell, I've got plenty of that," said Conner. He dialed his cellphone, calling Stephan by keeping the unit pressed up against the conduit. The skunk answered. "You just wanted a slab of gold? No offense, man, but that was a waste of time."

"Orichalcum is golden-like in color but different. I require it to… my… for the project. It's invaluable and may be the very last remaining piece of _orichalcum_ left, besides the Cooper Cane hook. The metal could _only_ be found in the mines of Atlantis." (A/N: _Go ahead, look it up on Wikipedia :-P_)

"Whoa, really?" whispered Conner. "Wow. Okay, sure, we'll bring it back but… it still looks like gold."

"Lift it."

Conner did so but found the dense metal to be surprisingly light. He tapped it against the workbench and frowned. "This stuff seems pretty solid but it weighs almost nothing." He eased it into the knapsack containing the thermite grenades and gear.

"Exactly. Bring it back please. I appreciate it." The line disconnected.

Conner turned to Karla, shrugged then left the small dwelling, full of futuristic machinery. He let the flexible tube go and it returned to its original position just outside of the building. It was generally smaller than the one they used to crawl through but provided the same basic functions. They began walking into the deserted preserved streets, untouched by oxygen or people for five millennia.

Quite suddenly, countless dozens of green and red laser dots covered both of their bodies. Conner froze. "Crap… Karla, do something."

"I can't see them," she muttered in frustration.

Several well-armed men, most of whom were canine, approached the group. The one in charge had a lit cigar pinched between his teeth. "If either of you move, I have more snipers and more soldiers than either of you can count. I understand that neither of you are bullet proof – we've dealt with the supernatural types before so… don't be stupid."

Conner gritted his teeth and slowly put his cane into the harness crisscrossed over the other staff. "Okay. I'll make you a deal… I'm sure we'll be killed _regardless_ of how this goes… play fair or I'll take you down with me… and I'm sure you guys want to go back up to the sea bed and see your families in that domed city. So… let's have a little respect going both ways here… sound fair?"

"I'm not here to torture you," said the man. He withdrew the thick stogie and tapped it with his finger to drop ashes on the street. "I'm here to follow orders, get paid for it and train men to do extraordinary things. Come with us and no one gets shot. But if you two even so much as reach into your pocket quickly without asking permission… my shooters will light you two up faster than you can even try to react. So… for now, everyone lives and no one does anything stupid, right?"

Karla narrowed her gaze. Her pupils shrank back to vertical slits again. "You're contaminating your worksite; don't you know where you are? People… entire civilizations have _dreamed_ of seeing this place."

"Whatever." He waved to the small squad of men surrounding him. "Escort formation." The men fanned out around Karla and Conner. The little green and red laser dots remained on their chests and back. She waved a paw nonchalantly, teleporting the ashes from the street to the man's hair without drawing attention to it. She fell into step obediently with a secret, satisfied smile.

The group crossed a bridge over an empty moat, followed by a slightly wider second moat and a third, vastly wider than the first. They filed into the temple at the center of the city. Lining the walls inside the temple were over two hundred men, all with their weapons pointed at Conner and Karla. The raccoon came alongside of her and whispered, "Can't you knock everyone down at once or something?"

"Even if I _could_ concentrate on that many targets at one time… where would we run? We're targets outside of this place. Stephan's workshop is too far to teleport two people at one time, let alone one… And even there, we were surrounded on all sides… Let's just… stay calm for now, okay?"

"This sucks," he grumbled. The temple was broken down into several sections. They filtered through the hallways until coming to the central room, complete with alter. Beyond that was a large machine of some sort. It resembled a fancy super computer but with more fancy parts and pieces decorating it.

Standing in front of it was a wiry-haired mandrill, hands folded behind his back. "Heaven forbid… _another_ Cooper," he said before turning around to face them. "Ah, and Karla… forgive me – I don't recall your surname, my dear. So… you've come all the way here to seek vengeance for the capture and deaths of your family… is that it?"

Conner closed his paws into fists but remained cool. "I could end this now by killing you where you stand. Sure, I'd die in the process but… then at least all of this would end."

"There are several thousand people here and, yes, you're right… they would kill you. You would die in the process of your attack… There are tens of thousands more people up above us… in my domed city… family members, wives, children and so forth… teachers, historians, artists… they're all related to my men somehow… they're all perfectly happy living this way… away from the dirty, polluted world above the ocean's surface. Now, out of so many thousands of people, all of whom are educated mind you… don't you think at least one of them would be smart enough to pick up where I left off… and continue it? I'd be dead, you'd be dead… but guess what? Whatever danger it is that you perceive… it would continue to play out until the climactic scene… In the end, boy… you've stopped _nothing_. So…" He clapped his paws together, rubbing them vigorously. "You've brought one of the final two artifacts I see." He nodded to the raccoon, speaking of the staff of Moses on his back. "And the other?"

"The amber with the seed in it?" Cooper smiled. "Yeah, it's here. But without the Mask of DarkEarth, destroyed in Australia a few decades ago, you'll never be able to control all the artifacts when you combine them. So, in the end, they'll control _you_ and cause a massive cataclysm. Everyone will die rather needlessly and those who live on the surface will never even know."

"I'm still curious how you got passed my enforces up in the city, my dear young man."

"The fake clone of my mother? She's dead. Jasper Cunningham – I believe that was his name, right? Yeah, he's dead, too, if I'm not mistaken. He was crushed beneath a big-ass chandelier… so it's pretty likely that both are toast. You underestimated your opponents yet again. I hear you've done that before, on Kane Island."

"I can always make more clones," said Moreau. "And Jasper was dying from cancer. He was imminent – no loss. He's probably happy he went out in a blaze of glory." The mandrill smirked, folding his arms in front of his unbuttoned lab coat. "Did you _expect_ to come down here and kill me or was finding me here a massive shock to you?"

"I knew it was you for a _long_ time," replied Conner. "You probably thought you were rid of me when that moron bulldog lackey of yours ran me through with my own family cane. I bet you were dancing the day you found out, too. But here it is, three years later… And I'm alive and well. Sure, you may have stood up against my entire family and their group of allies but things are going to be different now that I'm here."

Doctor M smiled. "I like your tenacity, Cooper boy. And there was a third and final artifact, if you must know; it's older than most of the other artifacts. Actually, it's not an 'artifact' at all, per say. It can control all of them and it's right here in this temple. The Mask of DarkEarth was designed to control the artifacts remotely from anywhere in the world… however, if the Emperor wished to stay on his throne and control them… he could use this." The elder man hooked a thumb over his shoulder to the large machine behind him. "It was used to make the Mask of DarkEarth so the destruction of that silly thing is of no concern."

Karla quirked a brow. "So wait, the Atlantians gathered the artifacts for _power_? But I thought the combination of all the artifacts is what caused the cataclysmic destruction of Atlantis?"

"It was," said Moreau. "They abused the power of the gathered artifacts. They lost control of it and the ensuing energy spike caused an explosion. From what I've gathered by studying the great library in this city… I've learned that the energy burst vaporized thousands instantly. Just like a Neutron Bomb but without the fallout or radioactive half-life. The survivors managed to keep Atlantis afloat for a very, very long time in the Atlantic Ocean by designing a fantastic and complex bilge and anti-current propulsion and stabilization system. It worked without fail for nearly a thousand years. Atlantis sought to return to their former glory – they were previously in contact with extra terrestrial life forms and when they fell from grace, they were punished by the loss of contact… out of guilt, greed and a burning desire, they relocated the artifacts once more and began a naval campaign to draw in slave labor from other nations.

"They had the world's strongest navy and lost only to the Athenians during their war efforts. This is only because of the clairvoyance of a woman, ancestor to Cassandra of Troy. You see, in reality Apollo did not give Cassandra any power… There is no proof that multiple gods, titans or any other silly such thing ever existed. But Cassandra, daughter of Hecuba and Priam… they were real. Their ancestral roots go all the way back to Atlantis. The prophetess queen was killed when Atlantis sank beneath the ocean waves during the second cataclysmic shockwave. The dome that protected this city's people from living in the stratosphere also protected the citizens who survived when they sank into the ocean. The queen's last prediction was that people would seek out Atlantis for ages to come and, one day, when technology permitted, the city would be found. They attempted to counter her prediction by making it possible for Atlantis to be buried deep inside the Earth. But here we are… creating history _and_ proving the queen's prediction to be rather accurate. And now the power of Atlantis will belong to someone who will be mentally equipped to handle such a thing. Imagine the technology possible with such power! The thought of it is mind boggling."

Karla folded her arms. "How much power are we talking here? Because if the explosion vaporized people but didn't annihilate the entire planet… then it mustn't be _that _damn powerful."

Moreau balked at her theory. "It could have been a million times more powerful of an explosion but they weren't using it solely to create a weapon! They were using it to cultivate technology to impress their galactic visitors. It was a mere metaphorical static electric discharge caused by carelessness. Modern computers can regulate such energy, monitor it and control it without error. It's time for this power to be harnessed correctly! I will usher in a new age! Ah, my lovely yet small-minded woman… I've not forgotten – to answer your question… it's projected by the finest mathematicians that this power is equal to or greater than the most powerful recorded estimates of the largest Black Hole multiplied by the power of our own sun… Then take the sum of that equation and double it, cubed."

Conner folded his arms across his chest, mirroring Karla. "I'm not Javari so that sort of math is irrelevant to me. So what, you can power everything, everywhere, in unison, forever. What's the point? The global energy economy would collapse if you introduce it… what can you build that would utilize that power… who cares? So what, you have the world's biggest battery… I'm not impressed."

Moreau appeared boisterous. To Karla, he appeared maddened. The mandrill lifted his arms into the air and proclaimed, "I envision a power so tremendous it can be used to bend time and space, allowing me to bend temporal flow, itself, to my will… I will _control_ time and space. You have no imagination or intelligence, boy… You're another sheep who lives out its life in the pasture, happy that tomorrow will be a repeat of today until the day that you die. _You_ do not impress _me_."

The felox tilted her head. "You're rambling on like a schoolboy. What is our fate now that you have us?"

"You have no fate, you have no future," exclaimed the aging doctor. "Later on, when I get around to it, you'll both join the rest… frozen in time. Hostages that do not eat, try to escape or create problems are very good things… they become collateral for later and will last as long as I want… I finally have everything I wanted from the beginning… I will _become_ a god! With this much power, I can devise a way to tap into my mind and use it to its fullest capacity. Didn't you know? The average mortal mind uses between five and seven percent of their brain's full potential? I will invent a machine that will allow me to train and utilize as much as possible… I will transcend the physical realm. I will…"

"Jesus," murmured Conner. "You're another cardboard cutout villain. You want power and self-gratification. Blah, blah, blah. How about this… all your men back up so that you can I can duke it out the old fashion way… man to man – to the death. Let's tango and see who's perfect?"

"You bore me," replied Moreau. "I once spliced my own genes and made myself powerful. I grappled with your father and his friend, Murray… I threw them around like the children they were. But all of that is boring anymore. I've perfected myself and can throw you through a _wormhole_, now, and you'll wind up in limbo forever. You see, child, I've already tapped into this machine, powered by the artifacts I've already collected. You've brought two more. If I were to simply decide that you should cease to exist… it will happen. You'll vanish from physical and metaphysical existence with but a mere thought. Now you understand why I'm here! I take the most powerful artifacts, a focal point of ancient and modern adoration and greatness… I then combine them as the ancient Atlantians once did. Finally, I utilize their technology to amplify the power until the end result is something beyond imagine!" Again, Alphonse Moreau began babbling with excitement.

"So the source of _all_ your power is that machine, huh?" Conner glanced at Karla then back to the mandrill with a sly little smirk. "Fair enough… if that's the case, why won't you fight me?"

"Because fighting bores me. I would only stoop to such a level in self defense… but as you can see," he waved his arm to the men that lined the temple, inside and outside… "I don't need to defend myself. In fact, I do not yet need your artifacts. The time is not yet upon us. I will collect them from you when _I_ am ready to do so." He raised his tone and said, "Guards, keep your sights on these fools." His voice lowered and he smiled. "It's time you watch and learn what I'm capable of. With this power, I can save the world or destroy it any way I choose."

Several hundred guns clicked in unison with every barrel pointing at Conner and Karla. The raccoon frowned then sat down on the floor. He removed his canes from the harness and laid them neatly across his lap then folded his paws. Karla silently sat down adjacent to him. She leaned in and whispered, "What's your freakin' plan, kiddo?"

"Just relax," he replied in a hushed tone. "He's not planning to kill us or he'd have done it by now. This is the part where we play along with him and wait it out. Just have patience. He's crazier than I thought he would be… maybe he'll slip up and make his own mistakes. He doesn't appear to have his full artifact collection on hand at the moment. A few pieces are probably up in the other domed city… somewhere."

"I hope you have a plan," she said.

"Shh." He offered her a smile then grew stoic, looking forward in silence.

* * *

A/N: _Okay! All done this chapter! There's one more, followed by an epilogue! This is it! You're about to see the final whatever in the next, last full chapter! I stepped back from all the history and realistic stuff this chapter and threw a boatload of mythology at you, huh? What will Stephan do with that yellow metal ore? I have an idea! :D_

_Thanks for reading! I appreciate it! Someone recently asked for a sequel to this story but… I probably won't (at least not any time soon, if I do). I have to finish Spy Cooper, Claws of Fate, Reflections of Marcus McCloud, Fox McCloud, Peppy Hare, and as many other stories as I can (including the bandwagon x-over story of doom, heh) by the end of the year! I promised myself I'd start working on original pieces more as of the new year… and post them all on FictionPress dot com. It's FanFictionNET's sister site for original works! _

_I'll still do FanFiction next year but my primary focus for a little while will be Original Work! Woo!_

_Thanks, again, for reading! _

_-Kit_


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: _I'll fix it in the first chapter but… I went back and played Sly Cooper's first game… guess what, there's a date on the newspapers that are shown when Sly defeats some of the bosses… 1997. Barely legal at 18 years of age. That means he was born in 1979 and that my math was off and that he's 50 right now… and 47 in the first chapter… NOT 41.  
SURPRISE, with so many saying they didn't want the story to end so soon… I decided to extend the end of this story by just a little bit…_

_My band, A Break in Chaos, has played its LAST show. We've disbanded. John and I will start a new project with a new name and a new feel. A Break in Chaos' music can be seen on MY YouTube account – username: KitWriter. Thanks!  
Wow, I just broke 2 million archived words in my user stats. Neat. Thanks for reading, guys. Again, I appreciate it. I hope the last chapter was okay – no one really said much, lol. Anyhow, let's get into the climatic swing of things! Here we go…_

_

* * *

_

Chapter -32-

**A groan… at first the only sensation** was itchiness. The next feeling to come was pins and needles from the numbness in the arms and legs. Next, memories of fear and despair. It faded away again. Everything went dark. Blissful ignorance returned but the lack of physical sensation was followed by a dream.

_Carmelita Fox struggled against the iron restraints bolted into the old wooden slab. She gritted her teeth, ears lay flat, stowing her fear by tapping into her anger to hold out against the psychological attacks. The glowing Clockwerk eyes above her were a beacon of confusion and so she clinched her eyelids shut once more, even though it hurt to do so. The eye drop solution made her eyes sensitive and swollen so that it hurt to close her eyelids. She fought against the pain, trying to keep them shut but it created an intense headache… her eyes forced themselves open again. _

_"Again, it's so easy… just put your mind into your happy place and stay there. Forever, as I said earlier, is most preferable. Your happy place will evade the torment. Don't you even _have_ a happy place? Are you that miserably honest that you don't have a happy place in which to retreat?" The voice belonged to the Contessa. _

_Carmelita struggled, pulling against the iron cuffs that kept her pinned to the wooden slab. The vulpine cop's teeth gnashed. But part of her mind was tired. She was further torn, wondering if Sly Cooper would rescue her the way he'd saved her from the gas chamber about two years ago. _

_"You'll never get away with this," said Fox, pulling on the restraints to keep the sensation of pain in her wrists as consistent as possible. _

_"I already have," replied the arachnid. "I want you to repeat after me: 'I stole the Clockwerk eyes in an attempt to brainwash criminals to steal their hidden fortunes. But you'll _never_ get a confession out of me in court!' Say it just like that, so that people will take your word seriously. Your word _is_ credible, is it not?" _

_"You won't get _anything_ out of me, freak!" replied Carmelita, struggling not only against the restraints but to keep her mind active. She was tired and simply wanted to sleep at this juncture. Her head ached, her eyes ached from the bright lights, her chest ached from the constant pounding of her heart for hours on end. _

_"Did you know that Neyla was helping Sly Cooper? You hate her, don't you?"  
_

_"Damn right I hate her!" _

_"But you should – she was trying to move in on him. That's how she got so close! They moonlighted India together and she worked to get their trust… isn't she a genius? She then injured Sly with a bomb and left him to die in a shallow grave, in a puddle beneath Rajan's secret palace bridge. Needless to say, he's injured, he's in custody, and soon he'll be selling shoes at a Payless in downtown Paris. Not before telling me where he hid his acquired fortune, first." _

_"You're LYING!" The inspector tried to tighten her paws into fists but her body ached and she couldn't manage it. "Sly has most likely already broken out! You were spending so much time at your facility to try and brainwash Sly and Murray… suddenly you're _here_! Suddenly I'm the center of your attentions, so that means you fell back and went into hiding! I'm not an idiot! Sly and Murray escaped, didn't they?" _

_"No, dear. They're on autopilot. They're in a room, full of spice, surrounded by my brainwashing amplification devices. When I let them out, Cooper will be glad to get your shoe size… then he'll want to suggest some nice pumps and possibly a gel cushion for the sole." _

_"Maybe I'll buy a new pair of shoes, so that I don't tarnish my boots when I cram my foot up your rear end!" _

_"Carmelita, come now… and what about how he helped Neyla? That was awfully nice of him wasn't it?" _

_"She betrayed EVERYONE! Sly may be a criminal but I know his motivation! He wants to destroy those parts, and now that I see what you're doing with these eyes… I can understand why!" _

_"Tsk, tsk, Miss Fox… focus on your happy place. What is your happy place?" _

_"If Sly doesn't shut you down first, I certainly will," retorted Carmelita. "Then I'll put you behind bars and let you rot _forever_." _

_"I see… so your happy place _is_ Sly Cooper! Fascinating! You two are awfully familiar… have you ever kissed him? I doubt you'll lie about it… again, after studying your psychological profile, I know your penchant for honesty." _

_"Yeah, so what if I have? We'd just destroyed Clockwerk together, after all." _

_"Ah, so he kissed you in Russia… from Russia with love, hmm? Well, my dear, let's start today's session by implanting a seed of dishonesty in your mind. Let's not call it… lying. Let's call it… hmm… having subterfuge. We'll start with white lies. What if Sly Cooper, for some reason, gave up his thieving ways… and what if you wanted to make him into a good cop… what would one little lie hurt? You could tell people that he was never a criminal before now… right? Would you lie to gain a trusty partner that has, for so long as you've known him, kept you out of danger? He'll rescue you from peril? You would lie to have that, right?" _

_"Yeah RIGHT. Sly would NEVER want to become a cop… so there would be no point in telling such a lie to others!" _

_The Contessa sighed. "Let's look at another angle. Let's start again…" Everything went dark. Carmelita's weary mind faded through imagines until a future moment appeared. Indeed, like the Contessa had said, Carmelita found herself face to face with a lie. _

_It was years later… Sly Cooper was sleeping on her living room sofa. She stood in a nearby doorway, looking at recently developed 'evidence' film. Sly, Bentley, Murray and the Aboriginal Guru were making goofy faces. In one, Sly had a particularly romantic looking expression while everyone else posed behind him as though trying to accent the raccoon centerpiece. She lifted her gaze to the raccoon sleeping on her sofa and sighed. _

_"If I lie," she murmured beneath her breath, "This could go horribly wrong." She stashed the photos into her back pocket, approached the sofa and sat down on a nearby ottoman. "How's your head?" she asked in a clear voice. _

_Sly stretched then blinked a few times. He looked up from the blankets and offered Carmelita a smile. "I remember that it's been hurting since yesterday. Before that… well... I've got nothing. I'm assuming that we're a team for you to have found me so quickly."  
_

_Carmelita looked away. She made a snap decision to lie. "So, you _do_ remember, huh?" _

_"No, I was just making a guess." _

_She now had a way out of this… and, like a fool, walked right into the poor decision. "You're my constable. Don't you remember _anything_ at all? Interpol? The South Pacific? Arresting criminals together?" _

_"Wait…" Sly sat up and rubbed behind his right ear. "I remember…" He stood up, giving a tug at the drawstrings of the loaner sweatpants he wore. He then picked up a piece of paper on her coffee table. He turned the picture towards her. "Is this your chopper?" _

_"Are you trying to jog your memory?" She secretly feared it would all come back and he would become a criminal again. "You shouldn't rush it, you might do more harm than good. Just relax and let it come back naturally." _

_"No, wait," Sly smiled. "You were flying this… and I was your tail gunner… and I was saying something to you, to which you asked if, just once, we could cut the flirty chit chat. We were fighting together. That's the _only_ thing I can remember." _

_"That's it?" Carmelita offered a hopeful smile. "You remember fighting together in the chopper against Clockwerk?" _

_Sly shrugged. "Who's Clockwerk? I just remember we were fighting for our lives and flirting… Inspector." _

_"Well… that did happen," she replied then secretly scolded herself for being so honest. "I… er… well, yes, it happened exactly that way… we were flirting with one another while flirting with danger. You made a great tail gunner." _

_"That's because we're a team, right?" Sly's eyes sparkled and he smiled tenderly. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel awkward with my flirting. I don't remember anything, just that one time… and that you told me to stop." _

_"Only because we were in a serious situation – I have no problems with your playful and semi-sweet compliments. Besides, you made a great tail gunner," she repeated, adding, "Constable." She noted his genuine smile, which brought about a smile in reply. Maybe –one– tiny lie wouldn't hurt anyone, she told herself. "I've got to make some very important phone calls but they're private. Can you stay here while I talk to my superiors? It's a conference call for Inspectors only, I'm sorry." _

_Sly jokingly saluted. "No problems. I'll be right here when you get back." _

_Carmelita walked into her home office and dialed Chief Barkley. After a few rings, she got his secretary who routed the call to her boss. The two exchanged pleasantries then Carmelita changed the subject to something more serious… Constable Sly Cooper. "Chief, what was The Contessa's track record for changing criminals into decent people?" _

_His voice was gruff. "Up until you were able to expose her true intentions, she had a perfect success rate. It was so good that we were sealing their historical criminal records so that they couldn't look it up, learn about their past and undo her treatments." _

_"I think her treatments might have worked on Sly Cooper."  
_

_"…What? How so? That was ages ago." _

_"He lost his memory," said Carmelita. "All the work she did on his mind was still there and he's subconsciously been reprogrammed. But he'd escaped before her treatments had any effect… but now he's lost his memories. He's fallen back on his reprogramming and is a stand up citizen. I would like to make a special request." _

_"Yes?"  
_

_"If we make him take the entrance exam, he'll question things… I want to create his past by telling him he was working for me. For two reasons, sir… One, I can keep a close eye on him to see if he's lying about his memories… if I believe he's dishonest, I'll throw him in jail. However, if he doesn't remember his past… how can we hold him accountable for it? Especially if HE is the one who thinks he might be a cop." _

_"He …does?" _

_"Yes, sir," she said, adding, "He remembers taking down Clockwerk a few years ago… at my side, no less. It's his ONLY memory and thinks that he and I were partners. I told him he was merely a constable. Let's do a police exam on him, tell him it's to make sure he knows how to be a good cop, now that he's 'sans training' so to speak… IF… and I do mean 'if'… IF he passes, would you consider him as my constable so that I can keep an eye on him?" _

_"I'll need to think about this. It would require removing his criminal record. We would have to have court orders, saying that he was falsely accused and, recently, evidence came forth to prove he was innocent of all past situations so that he would have a clean slate. Why do you think he would make a good cop?" _

_Her tone lowered. "Because he was as good at taking down criminal scum as myself… Whether it was the Klaww Gang or others… For him to track down those criminals without police research, he would have to be a competent detective in his own right. He usually showed up and got away before the police arrived at the scene… that means he must have a mind capable of doing that sort of detective work. I think he would make a good cop… call it a cop hunch. Let's just call it a social reform experiment. Do I have your permission to confirm he's my constable?" _

_"…I dislike that you can be so persuasive. You're a cop not a lawyer. However, I'm not saying 'no'. I just… need time to weigh out the pros and cons…"  
_

_"Yes, sir." She sounded mildly disheartened. "Thank you for your time – I'll let you get back to your morning paperwork. _

_"Thank you. I'll see you after your vacation – you're due back in the office day after tomorrow. I think you should take at least a full week off after that ridiculous experience in the South Pacific… I'll leave it up to you to take the hint and extend your vacation time… hint… hint. Oh, and Inspector Fox?" _

_"Sir?" _

_"Bring… Constable Cooper with you to the office when you return to duty." _

_Carmelita's face lit up and she cleared her throat to disguise her excitement. "Y-yes sir, I'll see you then, Chief." _The memory ended with her pumping her fist in the air to get the energy out before returning to her living room and to the man sitting on her sofa. But it all faded to a blurry soft white lighting. She saw eyelashes and tried to squint through them. They parted and disappeared for a moment only to cover her eyes again, protecting them from the brightness. Her eyes adjusted.

Sly Cooper, fifty years old, slid into focus. She murmured softly. "Sylvester 'Sly' Cooper, father of two, born 1979 to Mister Cooper, Conner J. and his wife of the same age, Mrs. Conner Cooper, Marie H. Parents were American citizens. Orphaned at age eight in Paris – attended the Happy…"

Sly's voice was strong and clear. "Yup, she's fine. Everyone back up and give her some space."

Carmelita awoke in the arms of her husband. She lifted a paw and placed two fingers against his nose then trailed them down to his lips. "I lied for you. I told everyone that you were a cop. You're the only man I've ever lied for… and to play into your game, faking amnesia, I lied to _you_ and said that you were my partner. Do you realize that I changed for you? I broke my personal rules of conduct for you. I broke my personal rules of honesty for you. I did all of this just to give you a chance to prove to me that you were a good man, deep down."

"I'm _your_ man… deep down, on the surface and everywhere in between." Sly smiled softly. "And I'll always be your tail gunner."

She smiled. "You remembered." She sat up then rubbed her face, looking around the room. "Where's Moreau?" Her voice tone became serious. "Is Carmen okay?"

Sly hooked a thumb. "Carmen is in phrase three… The machine is taking her freshly thawed blood and filtering it back into her body, which has been warmed to the proper temperature and is now being drained of its anti-freezing solution. She'll make a full recovery. Her beau has just been revived. Thomas Gerard is in phase one and Jing King is in Phase Two. Nearly everyone has made it."

The vixen's eyes widened and, with Sly's help, she got to her feet. "Nearly everyone?"

Bentley stood behind them with a towel-like blanket around his body. "Mister Crowell is showing complications. His chance of survival is at fifty percent right now. The computer can't seem to get his body or his blood to the right temperature. Perhaps it's because he's an avian… but if that were the case, it would have had trouble with _me_ as well… and I woke up just fine."

Carmelita gently eased from Sly's arms and approached her daughter's hibernation chamber. She placed her paws on either side of the cylinder, gazing at her daughter's face. "Please, baby… I can't lose you both."

Sly approached her from behind and put a paw on his wife's shoulder. "…You won't lose them 'both'… and about that – there's something we should talk about."

"What? And how long has it been?"

"Three years, just listen for a moment." He turned her away from Carmen's pod and drew her into his arms. Sly lowered his voice to a personal tone and whispered into her ear. "Conner woke up from his coma – he's not brain dead and he made a _full_ recovery." The two embraced in silence and she wept into her husband's shoulder over the joyful news.

"Where is he?"

"He's here – he's the one who rescued _us_. But it isn't all good news – he's disappeared. His communication reception was spotty at best. Distortion laden. He told us that he's found Moreau. Minutes later, he said something about being at gunpoint and was being treated as a hostage. After that, we lost reception completely because he's underground… about… several miles underground."

With a blink, Carmelita lifted her head from his chest and said, "Gather Bentley, Kalen, you and myself… The four of us will head down there immediately. Everyone else stays here and holds down the fort. Keep Carmen out of danger."

"What do you need from me?" asked Bentley.

Carmelita brushed by her husband and approached the tortoise. "Start working on a way to hijack this dome. Script the computer to order an evacuation and find a way to jam all communications on open public frequencies to ensure that no one can counter the order. Find out what frequency Conner's last communication was and make sure it won't get blocked. Sly, Kalen and myself will be headed to wherever Conner was."

Another voice joined the group, causing everyone to turn towards Dawn over by the wall. The girl sat in a chair, facing a computer. "I find this difficult to believe but… supposedly he's _in_ Atlantis. The real Atlantis. It's buried in the mantle and Moreau went down there with almost _all_ of his men. They're there with Karla."

"I'm going, too." The voice belonged to Winthrop Weasel. He held a silenced pistol in one paw. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer."

"What right do you have? We're going to save our son."

Sly placed a paw on Carmelita's shoulder. "Not only did he risk his life repeatedly to help me rescue you… and believe me, I couldn't have done it without his help… Karla is with Conner… and… he's Karla's husband."

Carmelita blinked. "Say what?"

Winthrop wrinkled his nose. "We have a son. She's my wife and I'm going to save her. If I can save _you_, I can save _her_. I'm not the pushover that you thought I was."

"I was saved by _you_?"

Winthrop nodded. Sly nodded. Murray nodded. Bentley and Kalen nodded. Another unknown face nodded. Dawn turned back to her computer screen. Meanwhile, Carmelita tried to change the subject in order to save face. She nodded to a female tigress, standing near Sergei and Javari. "Who are you?"

"Keri Tiikeri," said the woman.

Winthrop narrowed his gaze. "You can at least acknowledge me, Senior Inspector Fox. I saved your life. I came here to help my wife and, in doing so, I rescued your son from imminent death at the hands of a _rogue clone _made from YOU. Then I helped your husband to save _YOU_. What's the matter? Too shocked to admit that I'm more than just your _intern_ anymore?"

Carmelita pursed her lips for a moment. Finally, she turned to him and placed her paws on her hips. "You were my intern until Sly Cooper caught my interest. Suddenly you worked your tail off and became a detective. You earned your merits but you were _still_ a coward who sat back and let others do the dangerous work. I wasn't impressed by your cowardice."

Winthrop raised his voice. "As surprised as I am that you remember _anything_ about what went on in that office, the fact remains that I came here ALONE… and I saved your son's LIFE… then I saved YOURS. I'm not ASKING for a medal because I don't WANT to be YOUR HERO. I just want you to RECOGNIZE that I'm doing more than consuming YOUR precious oxygen when I'm in the vicinity! THAT would be a CHANGE of PACE. I only turned in my badge because I could make more money as a career professional. Eventually, Karla and I became an item and I've been HAPPY ever SINCE!"

A sigh. Her brown eyes lowered to the floor, avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry. I just woke up and… I'm still a little confused and disoriented. I just want to help my son… sitting around and talking about… anything… isn't helping us to help HIM now. I just… I want a team I know I can trust. I need to know that the people who are at my side won't flinch when it comes time to pull the trigger."

Murray rubbed the back of his head and Sly folded his arms behind his back. The raccoon cleared his throat softly. "Uh, hon… he definitely didn't flinch, earlier."

"Huh?" She turned towards her mate.

"Yeah," said Murray. "He's hosed more dudes than Rambo. Then, while we were trying to leave, that one dude was shot so Winthrop pulled him out of the line of fire, all by himself, and… just wow… Winthrop just wants to save his wife."

"What… dude was shot?" she asked quietly.

Sly shook his head. "Apparently your clone was a close friend of Jasper Cunningham… the guy who we faced in Russia… the guy who took down Conner."

"Muggshot's brother," she whispered. "So he's dead?"

"He helped us to free you," said Winthrop. "I know he's a monster for taking down Conner a few years ago… but if it wasn't for him, you would be dead, because your hibernation chamber was booby trapped. He did it because he said he had immense respect for your clone, who worked as his boss as the chief enforcer of this city."

"Wait a second," said Sly, eyes wide. "That gives me an idea!"

Bentley snapped his fingers. "Sly! Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Murray suddenly grinned. "Oh, MAN! I know Sly better than anyone… and that idea is the most _unthinkable_ idea ever! But it might work if Mrs. Cooper can play it off right!"

Carmelita narrowed her gaze at her husband. "You're the one who is the master of deception. You're the one who does the disguises."

"But sweetheart," pleaded Sly, "You'll be disguised as _yourself_! We'll use you to save Conner by having you go down there with Winthrop in handcuffs. You'll tell Moreau that you found Winthrop sneaking around in the connector between the two cities. Kalen and I will sneak in at another angle, take out his gunners as quickly as we can… then come in from _behind_ Moreau. Then we can overwhelm him."

"He'll see right through me," said Carmelita. "Whoever that _fake_ was…? She worked with Jasper Cunningham. That's something I would _never_ do. So we obviously have our differences. He would see right through me."

"No," said Sly, adding, "Your clone apparently had no memories from Kane Island onwards. She didn't know ANYthing. Just pretend to be ignorant and a police enforcer… He'll believe you. Then, you tell him that everything is well topside. You tell him that Jasper is keeping an eye on his headquarters and the city is otherwise safe. He'll think that Conner, Karla and Winthrop consisted of the _entire_ rescue operation and that everyone has been rounded up and caught. If Conner says anything to you, you'll have to pretend you don't know him… I know it'll be difficult… but it'll save his life."

Winthrop stowed the weapon and folded his arms. "Since the clone never knew Sly romantically, you'll tell Conner that he's just another thief Cooper and needs to shut up, else you'll shut him up. If you can get at a good angle, wink at him. He's a smart boy. He'll take the hint and play along if we're lucky. After that, keep an eye on him. Once we give you the signal, turn on Moreau."

"What's the signal?" she asked in soft dulcet tones.

Sly glanced at Kalen then looked back to Winthrop and Carmelita. "We'll take out the gunners as quickly as possible, Kalen can use his hunting abilities, like his sense of smell, to find them. We'll prop the weapons so that Moreau doesn't see a lack of laser dots," he trailed off and glanced over at Dawn. "You said he'd mentioned something about green and red dots on his chest, right?"

Dawn replied with a nod. Sly nodded back then continued. "Anyhow, when we find the last guy and take him down, I'll place a single laser dot on Moreau's forehead. That's your sign. I won't shoot him else the guards who are adjacent to him will take down Conner and Karla. However, that'll be the sign that the gunner cover situation has changed."

Winthrop cleared his throat and said, "Throw Karla a hint – once she knows that they're not in danger from unseen foes, she'll teleport everyone to a safe place. We'll regroup then figure out a way to take down Moreau and his personal entourage. Between Karla and Kalen his personal guards will be a piece of cake."

"Indeed," replied Kalen with a nod. He turned back to the remaining people in the room. "Keep Carmen safe. When she awakens, let her know that her brother is well. Let her also know that I'm well. I can only imagine what was going through her mind when she came here several years ago, hurt that her brother was thought to be dead and knowing that her fiancé was missing in action."

Carmelita rubbed her chin. "Well, we escaped this dome several times in the past. Once over 20 years ago… once three years ago right before Conner went down… and we'll do it again tonight."

Sly nodded. "I remember _all_ of those times. We were _lucky_ to have escaped without detection the first two times. Moreau got lucky on the third visit… but his luck is about to run out. Let's get it together and have Dawn guide us over a communicator so we can get down to this alleged underground city. We've got to save Conner before it's too late… and I admit… I want to know what the real Atlantis is like."

"Let's go, then," said Kalen. Winthrop came alongside of the golden-furred jackal.

Bentley nodded to them. "Good luck everyone." He then said to Dawn, "I'll be in contact with you. Once everyone is rushing to evacuate, we'll have the whole city to ourselves just in case we need to turn it into a battlefield against Moreau. I'll get started on securing an escape for all of us."

"Good luck," said Sly, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Take Murray with you for protection."

"Good idea," replied the hippo with a firm nod. "Better safe than sorry."

Carmelita turned back to her husband and, for the first time, she noticed he was dressed like a college boy. She tugged at his shirt and quirked a brow then shook her head slowly. "It's not your style… but I won't lie – you look damn good." She offered a wan smile. "Okay… everyone to your places. Let's get this show on the road. I owe Moreau a mother's wrath from a woman scorned."

"I'll have a bottle of Hokyo waiting for you if you make it back," Dawn called to her.

"Really?" Carmelita's eyes lit up. "The liquor?"

"Well I certainly don't mean the stone percussion instrument made from Sanukite." Dawn offered a wry grin.

Carmelita rubbed her chin then nodded. "I accept." She turned to her husband and began to head towards the stairs. "I like her – I haven't had Hokyo since I was… probably her age."

He whispered back with a smile. "You kept a bottle atop of your safe when I stole my police file back in '97."

She eyed him. "You've a memory like a steel trap. Ironic that you tried to pretend you lost it for a while." She then ribbed her mate with a quick thrust of her elbow.

He returned a gentle shove. "Pretend I lost what?" joshed Cooper with a playful grin. Sly, Winthrop, Carmelita and Kalen left the room, followed by Bentley and Murray. Once upstairs, four people went one direction while the other two went another.

Kalen folded his paws behind his back. "Mister Winthrop, while your efforts are appreciated, your involvement thus far is unnecessary. You've proven yourself and have shown us that weasels can be quite ferocious, which we do appreciate. However, further jeopardization of your life is…"

"I don't really know you," interrupted the weasel with a shrug. "I met you for a few minutes a few years ago during a hurricane in Miami. Please don't take offense to this… but you can shut the hell up and save your fancy blathering for someone who gives a crap. Thanks, pal." He continued walking, paws stuffed in his pocket. "And I'm a quarter otter; just a heads up."

Carmelita cocked a brow, cut her gaze to Sly then looked over at Winthrop. "Wow. That was unexpected."

The weasel rolled his shoulders in a light shrug. "I'm not here to prove a point or impress or insult anyone. I'm here to get my wife home safely. Not that it matters to anyone else but I've recently had an epiphany while sitting home with our son… sometimes mates have to do things as a team in order to get through life's challenges together. So I'm here to do what needs to be done."

"That's awfully sweet – you came up with that all by yourself?"

A grimace tugged at the corner of his tan-furred muzzle. "Well, it was good advice from a marital counselor. I took it to heart and realized that she's important enough for me to come here with a gun, okay? And if anyone has anything to say about it… I don't give a damn. I'll do it with or without help."

Sly nodded firmly. "We're glad to have you, especially since I know you're capable of pulling your weight and then some." He turned to his wife and added, "Honestly, he's a pretty good shot. Having two sharpshooters will definitely make things easier."

"If you say so," she replied. The vixen looked back at Kalen. "And what of you? You can take a bullet but you've been frozen. What will you need to do in order to be at full strength or… whatever?"

"I understand there will be plenty of Doctor M's men down there. I'll have all I need to sustain my abilities. We should start with the guards to the elevator. Let us check in with Dawn to find out where it is located."

With a flick of the wrist, Sly opened a flip-phone style communicator that connected him directly to the main patch panel currently operated by Dawn. "Hey, we're getting near the center of town. Where's the lift to Satan's Den?"

"It's on the first sub-floor of Moreau's main building. I hate sending you back to that place over and over but… that's it. When in the lobby, go into the hallway that leads behind the main elevators. Javari's pass card wouldn't work on the panel but Carmelita's card would have worked. I'll help you splice wires and bypass the lock and you can fake having Carmelita's card for the sake of her role-playing as her clone. I suggest finding the body and taking her clothes and whatever is in her pockets. It'll make your wife more… ah… believable. It'll be up to her to convince Moreau to hand over his hostage for 'proper detaining'."

Sly sighed then nodded. "Awkward. I'll contact you when we're ready to start splicing wires."

* * *

**The little green and red dots bounced over** Karla's voluptuous chest. She deadpanned then rolled her eyes. "Even family men who have been removed from society for decades… are still immature." She lifted her eyes to Moreau. "You twit, we hired you to retrieve these artifacts for my group. You realize that by tricking a group of supernatural beings, you'll bring down the wrath of the entire Celestial Bureaucracy. You'll have all sorts of nine-tailed women and hammer swinging people on your ass."

Moreau looked away from the glyphs on a nearby wall, brows quirked. "That's odd, ever since my efforts led to the deaths of Sire, Reaper, Donovan and _you_, all at once I might add, I've been left alone. The Kitsune and the Kumiho, Thor and whatever else it is that you speak of… that never happened. The hardest one to contain was the vampire… ah, what was his name…" He turned back to the walls.

Conner folded his arms. "I thought you were powerful enough to fight your own battles."

"Oh, my boy, I am. But I'm too preoccupied with research and do not have time for your trite, truculent ways. In comparison to me, you're nothing but a mere troglodyte. I'm _this_ close to immortality. You're just a child with two sticks and a bag of golden metal."

"Actually, I've seen your computers," replied the teen. "Talk about troglodytes, you're still using two and four core processors. Up on the surface, we've surpassed you ages ago. We're using processors that process data by teleporting the bits so that they arrive faster than fiber optic can send light through the chip. Exabytes are just small potatoes. The size of the average game on a video game console." At this point he was beginning to exaggerate. "My laptop could power your entire city without overloading its single-core processor. And, on that note, you _really_ like hearing yourself talk."

"We're done here," announced Moreau. "Now is your chance," said the mandrill with a smile. "You're inside the temple so only the guards inside are able to shoot at you. Once we're outside, it'll become impossible once more. Do you wish to take a shot at me, boy?"

Karla stood up and all the dots moved to her. Conner stood slowly and gestured for her to relax. "I've got this."

"How do you figure? There are so many men lining the walls of this room that I wouldn't be able to teleport them all unless they were on their backs… at least not without at least one of them getting at least one shot off."

"Listen, _Alphonse_, I was thinking…" Conner slowly eased both canes from his back and placed his backpack on the ground. "We could have a fair fist fight. Mano y Mano. You outweigh me and your arm covers nearly twice the distance. Do you accept?"

"I only fight if I must. I have too many guards to worry about your pathetic attempts. But now is the only chance you'll have. It will become mathematically impossible once we leave this temple. Take your best shot but know that you'll be shot instantly."

"Glad to see this is happening on your terms," replied Conner. He lifted both staffs upwards and said, "Which one do you want in our duel?"

"I'll require neither."

Conner glanced over his shoulder. "Karla, you might want to sit down or get proper footing." He kept both canes lifted high. At that time, the men against the walls began to approach cautiously.

"See? You cannot win." Moreau glanced to Karla and smiled. "And if you tried anything, you could never leave this building without being shot. Your limited teleportation cannot get you to safety without attempting to go somewhere that may kill you. I'm sure arriving inside of a wall or large object would instantly end your life my dear."

"Screw off."

"Feisty." He smiled.

The men closed on Conner and Karla, guns at the ready. Conner nodded to Karla. "Ready?"

"Yeah, yeah…" She feigned disinterest.

Conner brought down his cane, striking the ground with the Rod of Moses. Like the Atlantic Ocean, earlier, all the men were thrown to the far left and right. The flesh and fur bodies piled high on either side of the room. Once clumped together, Karla waved her paws, causing the left pile to disappear then the right. She opened her palm and the Rod of Moses disappeared from Conner's grip and reappeared in her grasp.

Conner took his father's cane in both palms and lunged for Moreau. The surprised mandrill took the first blow gracefully. He went down but kicked Conner in the gut. The raccoon went flying through the room.

Karla lifted her arms and he disappeared, only to reappear on his feet behind the aging scientist. Conner clinched his paws into fists until the cane began to glow then nailed Moreau on the back of his head. Shocked and filled with current, Moreau hit the floor hard.

He was, however, filled with sudden rage. The ape-like creature turned about and swung an arm out. It knocked the cane across the room. Before anyone had time to react, he followed through on a pivot, striking Karla, whose attention was on the cane that clattered across the floor with her arms extended towards it. She went down all at once, dazed momentarily. Moreau turned back about and swung at Conner.

The teenage boy gracefully leapt over him, planted his feet on the mandrill's forehead then back flipped. He extended his paw and, to Moreau's surprise, the golden cane lifted from the floor and returned to Cooper's grip from a powerful magnetic force. He clinched his fist around the metallic pole, charging it until the hook was glowing again. "I've got a few new moves, old man."

"Interesting," replied Moreau as if agreeing. "But you cannot stop what I've already began."

"We'll see about that." Conner turned about and dashed towards the fantastic, archaic computer in the other room. Moreau's eyes widened and he chased Conner through the temple.

Karla stood up, rubbing at the side of her head. "Jesus." She walked out of the room and into the next section, watching as Moreau followed Conner towards the massive computerized object. Her eyes widened, realizing his intention. As he approached, he was surrounded by a brilliant blue aura. "Oh… my God."

Without any indication or warning, the floor began to glow. Rather suddenly, Conner and Moreau vanished from the room. Karla blinked, watching as the illuminated floor tiles spread throughout the room like a wave. As the floor began to incandesce beneath her feet, she too watched as the room faded away before her very eyes…

* * *

**Carmelita shuddered**, adjusting the lay of her new jacket still warm from the body heat of the recent deceased woman who wore it last. "I vaguely remember Prague. My doppelganger – Karla… the whole thing. Seeing _me_ dead on the floor… I just… I thought I could finally push that image out… then, suddenly…" She pointed up, leaning back against the elevator's rear wall. "Why couldn't we just have a normal, unexciting life?"

"Who you are," Kalen began, "has caused you to fall into this fatedly exciting lifestyle. Be glad no one else has to bear this burden. Would you want to leave the fate of the world in someone else's paws? Not I… it's best that we see it through personally to know that everything will be done _right_. I do not know what to expect when we reach the bottom… however, I'm sure it will be difficult. Should I not survive, I want you to tell Carmen that I loved her and that I adored her – I have feelings for her that I've felt for no other."

Sly face-faulted. "Do the same for us if the roles are reversed… tell Carmen to go on living and to know that we love her; can you do that for me?"

"I'm sure there will be no such complications, Mister Cooper." Kalen folded his paws behind his back again. "I love Carmen unconditionally. I love her so deeply that I want what's best for her. I cannot give her a healthy relationship. I cannot give her children. I cannot give her a normal life or a normal marriage. With so many odds against us, it is mathematically improbable for _all_ parties to return unscathed. That is why I volunteer myself to ensure that the _important_ parties return safely to their loved ones…"

"Stop." Carmelita tightened her jaw. "My daughter is crazy about you. Don't go doing something stupid like sacrificing yourself just to be some sort of idiot hero. We'll all walk away from this together. If the time comes where one of us _have_ to die in order for everyone else to live… we'll eyeball the situation on the fly and act accordingly. Don't go borrowing trouble."

"Fair enough, Mrs. Cooper." He turned to Winthrop and added, "Take care of your wife… she's quite a name in the supernatural community. For all of her _known_ incarnations, this would be the first time she has reproduced and taken a mate." Next, the jackal turned to Sly. "And you, Mister Cooper, have raised fine warriors. It's impressive that Conner, without your tutelage for the last three-and-a-half years, has been able to make it here and rescue us on instincts alone."

"That's what I'm worried about," said Sly. "Up until fourteen, he knew all he needed to know to survive childhood and begin adolescence. But I never taught him how to survive during a hailstorm of bullets or to center his focus and redirect his energy in a situation like facing Moreau one-on-one."

The elevator finally arrived at the bottom of the shaft. The doors opened and a dim yet magnificent city stretched out before them. The fresh oxygen pumped into the large underground dome was only just starting to overtake the stench of foul-tasting stale air.

"Whoa." Carmelita licked her lips. "How old are you, Kalen?"

His voice was humble and soft. "A fraction of the age necessary to remember _this_ lost world, Mrs. Cooper."

"Aren't we all," murmured Winthrop, adding, "We should head towards the center of the city, everyone. I don't recall Plato word for word… but I do recall that he said the important stuff was in the middle, surrounded by circular moats. Let's go."

The quartet emerged from the large elevator and began walking through the streets, preserved by many millennia of a near vacuum-like setting. Carmelita swiveled her head, taking in the fantastic layout of the archaic pre-historic city. "It's been eons since people have walked these streets until recently. These buildings look incredibly similar in design to modern buildings. It seems oddly high-tech."

"You said it," replied Sly. "Creature comforts, power demands," he said, nodding to what looked like a transformer atop of a small shed-like building in front of a larger, taller building. "But these streets are meant for foot traffic. There's no sign of anything else… no posts for chariots, no stalls, no garages or anything similar in fashion."

Within minutes, they reached a bridge that crossed over three empty circular canals. "This place is incredible," Kalen mused. "I do not detect the scent of Conner, nor do I sense Moreau in the area. The smell of his numerous guards, that is a different matter. They are, however, not near to us at this time. It smells as though they've been here shortly but… I do not know of their current location."

Sly and his coterie approached the temple at the center of the concrete island, nestled between the empty moats. They ventured inside and found it to be abandoned. However, Cooper's sharp eyes locked in on something across the main hall. He hurried over to a backpack and inspected it. He sniffed the shoulder strap and announced, "It's Conner's!" He checked the contents, finding red grenades a strange yellow metal and other various pieces of gear. "No phone, no canes, no other clues."

"He's here somewhere," snapped Carmelita. "We've got to find him. Typically I would order everyone to spread out but… we have no reliable communication devices down here. We have no backup. For now we should stay together. I feel foolish – we should have found walkie-talkies with a localized reception source."

"The nearest Radio Shack is quite a ways out," Winthrop told her. "Does Conner have anything useful to us in his pack?"

"Small explosives and a chunk of gold-like metal." Sly licked his lips. "It's lighter than real gold, so I'm not quite sure what it _really_ is."

"Let's go," said Carmelita. The group headed out through the rear entrance of the fantastic temple. They began walking the streets again with no sign of anyone in the vicinity. They reached the far end of the city, opposite of the elevator. The landscape was less than even, resembling hills that stopped at the wall of the city's dome. They worked counter-clockwise along the perimeter.

Sly opened his arms and announced, "Wait up! Everyone, stop!" He knelt down in front of what looked like a stone door to some sort of strange crypt then he began sweeping his paws over the dirt. "Look, I think I've found something." He worked the sand out of an engraved symbol then waved everyone to gather around him. "Are you _serious_? That's what I _thought_ I saw… but I had to be _sure_ I wasn't seeing things!" He gestured towards an engraving of his family's infamous hooked cane symbol. "This can't be a coincidence."

Carmelita pursed her lips then, in a soft tone, said, "Congratulations. You now have proof that your family lineage is one of the world's oldest traceable lines."

Kalen frowned. "We don't have time to play genealogist."

Ignoring Kalen's words, Winthrop said, "Talk about getting to the roots of the ole' family tree. You're at the bottom of the tree trunk, here."

"Tell me about it," said Sly. He looked up at Kalen and shook his head slowly. "Let's hope that my family, if this really belongs to them, has the same historical penchant for having gear to prepare for an emergency… if there's anything here we can use… this will be our only chance to…"

"I understand," interjected Kalen. "My apologies. Without your family cane, how will you open it?"

Sly's expression changed. "You're right about that. It will be difficult to otherwise break in… but I can always try." He set the backpack down adjacent to the stone door built into the inclined landscape.

"What's _that_?" asked Carmelita. The tone of her inquiry grabbed the attention of everyone. They looked over Sly's shoulder at the backpack. "Is it _glowing_ or did he pack a flashlight?"

Sly opened the top. Everyone gasped in unison. The supply of yellow metal was self-incandescing. It illuminated the general area with its unnatural glow. Cooper gently lifted it from the knapsack. As he raised it into the air, it dimmed. He lowered it once more and the golden rock brightened. He brought it closer to the ground and it began to heat right in his palms. "It's… getting _hot_," he said.

He set it down momentarily against the stone engraving then shook his paws rapidly. To the surprise of everyone, the metallic substance began to heat itself to liquid form. It filled in the hooked engraving. Extra runoff trickled down through the cracks and cooled in a small pool between Sly's knees. As it drained into the puddle, the metal dimmed and began to harden.

All at once, the glowing yellow liquid dimmed in the engraved section and also began to cool. Sly looked up at Carmelita who shook her head in confusion. He turned to Winthrop and Kalen but on one had a response to offer. Cooper glanced back at the newly formed hook-shaped engraving in the ground. He spit on the metal. It sizzled for a second. The self-illumination qualities ceased completely. He spit on it again but this time it was no longer hot enough to cause any reaction.

Sly brought a paw near to the metal then looked around furtively. Finally, he placed a finger against it then quickly jerked it away… He blinked then touched it again. "Ice cold. It's not even _slightly_ warm." He wiggled the newly formed metal piece from the engraving and inspected it. "Good God, it's a perfect replica of the Cooper hook. All it needs is to be mounted on a pole." He placed it back into the engraving and tried to turn it but it didn't budge. "C'mon; it doesn't turn like the vault."

"Perhaps it's not a keyhole," said Winthrop. "Perhaps, oddly enough, it's only purpose is to smith metal into hooks."

"_Perhaps_ it hasn't been used in thousands of years," said Carmelita. "Perhaps the mechanism no longer functions."

Kalen knelt down and placed his paws on it and, adding his strength to Sly's grip, the two strained with all their might. Rather suddenly, the stone section began to rotate. As it turned, a section of ground began to open. Like a clock, with every inch that the stone fixture rotated, the new doorway slid apart.

Once open, Sly removed the hooked handle, gathered the hardened yellow extra and placed both into the backpack. He shouldered it and was the first through the doorway. A stone staircase led straight down beneath the roads. "This leaves more questions than answers," said the raccoon with a slow shake of his head.

"Unlike the rest of you," Winthrop began with a clearing of his throat, "I can't see _as_ _well_ in the darkness. I'm not blind or anything but…"

Quite suddenly the subterranean entrance illuminated as though the area was full of light bulbs. In the far corner of the small main room was a round metal pad. They descended the stone steps and approached the floor pad. Carmelita posed the question on everyone's mind. "What in the world is that?"

"Don't make fun of me," warned Winthrop, "But it honestly resembles a teleportation pedestal."

Sly rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Maybe it was a weighing pad for stolen loot. Hey…" He pointed to a crack in the wall. "That's hand-cut and goes to the ground." He approached it and ran his paws over the flat wall. Clearing away dust, he found another engraving of the infamous hooked symbol. With a grin, he retrieved the newly formed hook from the backpack and placed it into the stone cut. The wall eased open as if sitting on well-lubricated tracks. A long, narrow hallway, fully illuminated, stretched out before them.

Again, Carmelita was the only one to vocalize what was already on everyone's mind. "The Cooper clan utilized tunnels beneath the city to do their work?"

"That's a good possibility," said Sly. "But we don't have time to explore this area. Conner is more important than the family's past. He's the family's future. All of this can wait – let's get out of here and start looking for him."

Kalen asked, "Are you sure we can't somehow utilize this to find him without being detected?"

"Sure, it's possible," Sly told the group. "But we don't have a map and we don't know the layout. I have _so_ many questions about this place… but Conner's safety is my priority. Let's get topside and find him."

"Sly…" Carmelita closed her paws around an elegant, smooth cane stick mounted to the wall adjacent to several others. She eased it from the clamps and passed it to him. "Look…"

"What is it?" asked Winthrop.

"Wow." Sly took the cane in one hand and the hook in the other. He combined them, carefully forcing the nearly fossilized wood into the bottom of the hook. He tried pulling the wood back out but, strangely, it seemed permanently attached already. Cooper tilted the metal part towards Kalen. "Take this and pull." He closed his fists around the wooden handle. Even with their combined strength, they weren't able to re-separate the cane from the hooked end.

"Bentley coated the handle of my stick in gold and put it away. That's why Conner's cane looks like it's all one solid piece… but once upon a time, it looked like this… gold top and bottom on a wooden stick… That one didn't come apart, either. At least not in the typical fashion."

"You have your hook back," said Winthrop. "I bet you feel complete again."

"Actually…" Sly nodded with a slight smile. "This might come in handy against Moreau."

"Let's find our son." Carmelita turned to Winthrop and Kalen. "I want the two of you to find a tall building and start scouting the area. It's your job to locate any possible snipers and patrol guards. Sly and I will locate Conner based on scent."

"I have something better," said Sly. "The only other family cane is still inside the vault. When my father's cane got near it… they would glow. Maybe… if this cane works like those canes… we can use it to track Conner."

"How can we be sure they're even the same metal?" she asked.

"Only one way to know for sure." Sly brushed by everyone, ascended the stone stairs and walked out into the middle of the street. He clinched the handle and tightened his jaw. The head began to glow then he swung it in a full circle. The sparkling end of the cane swirled through the air then dimmed. Sly watched as the other three stood around the stairwell, watching him in silence. Cooper offered a brilliant smile. "This is incredible. Not only does it feel the same, respond the same and look the same… I also still have all my old abilities. I've not picked up the family cane in ages… I've still got it!" He swallowed back his pride and said, "Let's find Moreau. He's still down here somewhere and he won't get very far, that's for _damn_ sure."

Carmelita nodded. "Okay, Winthrop and Kalen… do your thing." She then turned to her one-time intern and said, "Good luck."

* * *

A/N: _Surprise. Now... how about that epic fight scene with Conner and Moreau?  
YAY! Any requests? lol. Is everyone enjoying the story so far? Just curious! _


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: _Okay, now we're almost done... I wrote a LOT... so I split the last chapter into two pieces. This one will explain a LOT... and it has a lot of the climatic fighting stuff. After the next chapter, there will be an epilogue. Okay, here we go!

* * *

_

Chapter -33-

**"What could it all mean?" Sly murmured to his wife. ** "There were Cooper thieves before Slytankhamen the Second?" Together, the quartet walked through the empty, quiet Atlantian street.

"Well, there had to be a Sly'tut the _First_," replied Carmelita with a shrug. "And some say that Plato claims the ancient Egyptians knew a great deal and recorded a great deal about Atlantis. I don't know what else to tell you."

Sly gave the staff a slow spin off his left knuckles and back into his palm. "It feels just like mine, which my grandfather, Otto, took from the vault and passed it directly to my father. My uncle, Bruce, used it for a while but he was so into computing and hacking back in the late 70's and early 80's that he preferred Cray computers to steal data from the government over a physical cane. He disappeared the year my father was killed back in '87."

"No children? Wife?" She tilted her head. "Y'know, after all these years, I never asked you about your uncle Bruce."

"He was too busy with hacking and learning that stuff to give a darn about settling down. He left America before my father did but no one has seen '_O'Coop 404ed_' since. My father settled down in Paris to raise a family but was also the first Cooper in a LONG while to have an actual gang. Otto preferred using machines to do his work on all angles. Maybe the family didn't want to share – I don't know. I know that dad wasn't especially good at sharing with others, outside of the family… even his own team, I hate to say."

Winthrop quickened his pace and came up between Sly and Carmelita. "Hey, you two! Come here… look at this." He gestured to a nearby building with another hook engraving on the door. "Safe house, maybe?"

Sly glanced at Carmelita, tilting his head to peer at the wristwatch she'd obtained from her dead clone. "I guess we have just a moment. Never know if we might find something else useful." He placed his cane into the engraving and rotated it clockwise. The door rolled open with surprising ease. Inside, the walls were lined with glyphs.

Kalen grabbed one of the nearby wire conduits hanging from the ceiling. He lifted the flexible tubing, which had a light at the bottom, and carried it into the doorway. His eyes widened in surprise. "I… can read this." Confusion lined his tone. He glanced over the wall across from them then announced, "Mister Cooper, it sounds as though the oldest traceable branches of your family tree are not related to you by blood."

"Excuse me?"

"This talks about multiple families of the 'Khopesh Clan', which is possibly where 'Cooper' evolved from. It was a pack of thieving raccoons that used a Khopesh not as an axe but as a hook." (A/N: _Look up "Khopesh" on Wikipedia. Tell me that picture doesn't scream Cooper! xD)_

"So one of the families eventually moved to Egypt and continued the tradition?"

"That wouldn't be here. This city was abandoned and it sank into the ocean, remember? Evidence of such would have to have been documented elsewhere – possibly in Egypt or in your family's South Pacific Archipelago."

Winthrop rubbed his chin. "So now you find out more about your past, and it's not what anyone expected, hmm? Sort of how the Babylonians demonstrated knowledge of the Pythagorean Theorem long before the Pythagoreans."

Carmelita glanced back at the weasel, brows cocked high. "You know stuff about math?"

"A little," he replied. "I know that Babylonians used a sexagesimal numeral system and that's where we get sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, sixty multiplied by six to get three hundred sixty degrees in a full circle. God only knows where they got their math from… it's incredible. They also introduced the concepts of diagnosis, prognosis, physical exams and prescriptions. They were brilliant and even to this day they're far under appreciated."

"And now we're off topic," said Sly with a frown. He took the light from Kalen and walked through the small dwelling. "It doesn't appear that there is anything here except for knowledge and a place to rest your feet as well as wash them."

"Wash them?" Carmelita lowered her head, looking to the grated drain in the floor. "Incredible. They had the technology of sewage thousands of years before it was seen anywhere else. Incredible." She placed a paw on Sly's arm. "But he's right, everyone… this has been here for thousands of years and it'll be here for thousands more… we need to find Conner and Karla quickly." She turned to Sly and patted his arm gently. "I'm sorry that you found out that you weren't _directly_ related to all of these people… but it makes no difference." She nodded to another strange plate in the floor.

"It's fine, hon." He released the conduit, which flopped out the door and resumed its previous hanging position, pumping air, light and electricity into the immediate area. There was even a socket attached to the side just above the light fixture. He turned back to her and noted the platform she was studying. "Another one." He smirked at Winthrop. "Another teleportation pad." Sly then turned to his wife again and said, "Let's find our boy."

"He can't be far," said Carmelita. "Kalen, Winthrop… let's go ahead and split up now." She pointed to a building several blocks away that rose high into the darkness, fading from direct view. "That's the high point you'll need. If only we had night vision goggles."

"It is of no worry," replied Kalen with a toothy grin. "I see better in the dark than I do with that silly green phosphorescence. I'll keep Winthrop safe while in the gloom." He placed a paw against the weasel's lower back, gesturing the older-looking male away from the group. "As you said to us earlier, good luck."

"Ditto," replied Sly. He eyed Winthrop for a moment then nodded. "Impressive stuff you knew about the math. I'll have to check that out some time."

"It's on the internet," replied the tan-furred middle-aged man with a nod. "Try to be safe." He followed Kalen up the block towards the tall building that disappeared halfway up from the darkness.

Sly and Carmelita left the small one-story building and began walking again. Silence. The ground began to vibrate. It continued, building in intensity. Sly and Carmelita took refuge in a nearby building by shouldering through the doorway and kneeling down, face to face, in the frame. "An earthquake _here_?" asked Sly. "I thought the nearest tectonic plate was the Caribbean plate to the south?"

Carmelita appeared semi-impressed by her husband's apparent knowledge on the immediate area. "I used to live in that area as a girl… You're right and that shouldn't be causing any quakes against _this_ plate. The Atlantic Ocean is growing, which means a lack of major activity in this area."

"Feels like an earthquake to me," replied Sly. The rumbling continued to the point where it was difficult to retain balance. They both moved to a sitting position in the doorframe but the shaking worsened. "I didn't know they came this bad. I wonder what kind of magnitude this is creating in south Florida or the Bahamas?"

"Have mercy," muttered the vixen. She placed her palms on the ground and clinched her teeth. "I wonder how much more this place can take." She lifted her head, noting that the buildings remained whole, not appearing to crack or damage at first glance. The powerful shaking further intensified. She got to her knees and crawled out of the doorway.

"Where are you going?" shouted Sly over the ambient rumbling. He began to follow. He watched as his wife snagged one of the hanging conduits and pulled herself up to it. She began to climb it like a gym rope and Sly followed. The conduit swayed slightly but provided relief from the vibrating world around them.

"I was going to get sick to my stomach if it went any longer," Carmelita told him.

"Planet Rodeo," he said back. "Hold on for dear life and hope you're not thrown around too violently." His eyes lifted to the tall building a half of a mile away. "Damn and those two are heading to that big building… imagine holding on halfway up the staircase. I wonder what's causing all of this?"

* * *

**Dawn glanced back at Javari and Sergei then back** to the computer screen. "The only thing I can think is that the Nazca plate is pushing the Cocos plate into the Caribbean plate and what we're feeling is the vibrations from beneath the lithosphere due to this city's direct attachment to the buried city below. I wonder if Panama is feeling anything more than a light shake."

Sergei licked his lips and placed his feet against the wall, his back against a nearby pillar to try and keep from sliding about the deck. He held Javari in his arms. "Does this place have sensors that would detect if the seabed is shaking?"

"Good question, but is this place attached to the seabed at all?"

Javari cleared her throat, clinging to Sergei. "It used to float free but Moreau docked it to the seabed as of last November in order to run a tunnel into the ground to reach Atlantis… I've not seen it personally so I can't tell you how true it is… but since Conner is down there, with Moreau, then I'm inclined to believe it. What if the shifting causes stress on the elevator shaft? They could all become trapped down there forever!"

The nineteen year old began rummaging through the computer systems to try and locate some sort of sensor feed. She now sat in the swivel chair backwards, holding tightly to the backrest. "The shaft's structural integrity is still sound, I think everything is shaking, not just a section above or below the crust. That means that Panama is getting rocked right about now." She continued to type, attempting to access the World Wide Web but Moreau's computers were blocked out from the outside world. The monitor abruptly went dark, damaged by the intense shaking. Dawn shouted a sharp expletive in anger.

"We need to see if the domed city can handle this punishment," she told the room. "We need a volunteer to go up top and see if people are in a panic and what else is going on."

"I'll go," said Keri. "Try to contact Stephan and see if they're getting this… aren't they still in Florida?"

"Yeah, good idea. I'll give it a good try. Conner is the one who had the reception booster, though."

The tigress nodded and began crawling through the room to the stairs. She carefully ascended them then headed outside. Having expected it, she was still somewhat surprised to see the chaotic panic. Siren wails were a decrescendo and she could hear fearful screaming in the distance. It sounded like someone was shouting, "Why is this happening," in plain English. There was a fire in the near distance. Smoke collected at the top, clouding the taller buildings in a haze of smog.

An electric automobile, recently parked alongside the street, was now lying on its side in the middle of the vibrating lane. The unattended vehicle continued to rattle its way down the block slowly. Keri licked her lips apprehensively. "Mother of God, I hope to hell this place is designed to withstand this sort of punishment." She scanned the dome, fearful of cracks. The only apparent damage was to surrounding buildings. The shaking continued to grow in fantastic intensity, making it impossible to stand. "Suddenly, hover cars don't seem like such a bad idea," she said. Her words were lost to the deafening rumble that filled the area all around her.

Back inside the building, Dawn cupped her ear with one paw and her neck with the other. She pressed in on her throat, against the chip beneath her fur, and activated the speakerphone option so it would be even louder over the rumbling. "I can barely hear you, Stephan! What did you say?"

His words were garbled and distorted. "…Richter scale! …Chaos. Scientists have pinpointed the origin as… Bahamas are taking the brunt!" The call disconnected. Frustrated, Dawn lifted her paw as if to throw her phone but sighed, realizing that she had nothing to throw.

She saw Keri crawl back into the room and shouted, "I think the source of all this crap is _us_! The Bahamas are getting the crap kicked out of them. I also think he said that Florida is receiving an unusually high Richter scale number. I don't know what they're getting, though. Why won't it stop?" she added, further raising her voice at the end.

"So much for needing to figure out a way to evacuate the city," called Keri. "There's so much panic up there that people are flipping the hell out! Has this ever happened before?" she asked, crawling towards Javari.

"Never once since arrival!" called the wolverine. "Fires, crime and anything bad is extremely rare! I hope the emergency responders are equipped to deal with this sort of thing!"

"I doubt such," replied Sergei.

Dawn cried out in frustration. "I can't reach Bentley and Murray! I can't reach Conner or his parents! With Jing in the last phase, I'm afraid of this causing some sort of problems! It's supposed to be a delicate procedure!"

"Nothing we can do," said Keri. "Hey! Carmen is waking up!" She scrambled across the floor as one of the pods eased open on rails powered by hydraulic pumps. Dawn carefully dismounted her swivel seat and began to crawl along the ground towards the other side of Carmen Cooper's hibernation pod. She picked up a blanket-like towel used by Murray earlier and carried it to the side of the chamber. "Help me wrap her in this," she told Keri.

Dawn clung to the side of the shaking stasis pod and murmured softly, "God, she's gorgeous."

Keri who apparently heard the comment leaned forward until her muzzle brushed against the raccoon's ear and said, "I thought you've seen her before."

Dawn, with Keri's help, draped the cover over the girl's body. "I have… but," she trailed off, thinking to herself, '_Not like this. She obviously works out or dances._' Dawn's eyes lifted again and she finished her statement, aloud. "I'm just saying… Conner's family consists of attractive people, you know?"

Carmen, shaken into consciousness, groaned then grasped at Dawn's nearby paw. "Wh…what's… Dawn?"

The other raccoon nodded, using her free paw to cling to the side of the hibernation pod. "Yeah… welcome to twenty twenty-nine, Carmen. Glad you remember my face. Welcome to New Atlantis, which is currently shaking into oblivion all around us."

Carmen gave Dawn's paw a squeeze. She came to a startling realization and asked, "If you're here… is Conner?"

"Yeah… he's a miracle in and of itself. It's been three and a half years since you went into stasis. This place is shaking itself to death. We're waiting for Jing King and some other guy to wake up."

Carmen eased up onto an elbow, using her free paw to hold the side of the pod. She lifted her head and squinted in the darkness. The woozy raccoon-vixen hybrid exclaimed, "Artimus Crowell! He's the last known living descendant to Clockwerk."

"He's not going to make it," said Keri, her voice raised over the earthly rumbling. "At least I don't think he will… the computer claims he's got a super low chance of survival. We're probably going to wait for Bentley to get back… maybe he can figure out something."

"Where is everyone else," asked Carmen, "My mate? My parents? Where is Moreau?"

Dawn tightened her jaw. "Moreau is getting his ass torn up by Conner as we speak. When Jing wakes up, I have permission to get all of you out of here via an escape pod… life boat… whatever you wanna call it."

"Javari brought clothes," said Keri. "Let me help you out of there, sweat pea… Let's do it carefully, because it's impossible to stand right now." The lights flashed off, bathing the room in the glow of the wall-mounted LCD screens above the hibernation chambers located throughout the room.

"How long has this been going on?' asked Carmen as she slinked over the side of the chamber with Keri's help. The injured tigress was careful to help Conner's sister to the floor without hurting her sore arm or recently stitched left thigh.

"Almost ten minutes, now," said Dawn. "It's steadily worsened since it began. I lost connection to everybody and my monitor broke – maybe I can splice wires and hook it into one of the LCD's utilized by one of these hibernation pods. I hope Conner is using this to his advantage."

Javari and Sergei scrambled away from their spot between the wall and the pillar to help Keri with Carmen. Dawn kept the Cooper girl covered for the sake of privacy.

* * *

**"STOP, you fool!"** shouted Moreau at the top of his lungs. "You'll crush us all!" The mandrill's bloodied lip and nose caused ruddy saliva to spray from his mouth when he spoke. "You'll kill your parents and your family, you idiot! You'll end your family's legacy!"

Conner, clung to his inherited cane with one end lodged into the side of a metal machine of unknown use or origin. He shouted back, "Our legacy may end but we'll have saved the world from your eff'ed up crap! All the artifacts will be lost to the rest of the world, miles upon miles below the ocean! I say it's worth it to stop _you_!"

"But the artifacts will _still_ be together, releasing their energy from this location! You twit; if anything, it will not stop the weather and similar problems! That's simply a side effect of their power when combined! It'll become a power source that will be out of control – far more dangerous than in the hands of someone you hate!"

Conner jerked the cane from the massive metallic box then swung it with all of his might. The supercharged cane struck Moreau in the torso, throwing him across the room. He slid to a halt adjacent to Karla who lay against the wall unconscious. Her shirt had a tear in the right sleeve.

"You idiot!" Moreau got to all fours but the shaking continued all around them. "That machine has the power crystals that give this city its unnatural supply of energy! The forces that bind this city together stem from a power source that would act as a catastrophic weapon if used incorrectly! You'll kill us all! You will kill innocents – you give a damn about bystanders don't you, boy?"

"Shut up!" Conner stalked across the room with nimble grace, his equilibrium seemingly unaffected by the shaking. He lifted his cane and swung it. To his partial surprise, Doctor M caught it in his right hand. Cooper tightened his grip, charging the cane. The mandrill gritted his teeth from the sensation of scalding hot metal on his palm. The teenage boy leaned forward, face to face with his foe. "I'm going to rip your _head_ off of your shoulders. That's one hell of a _sure_ way to kill you!"

"You stupid boob!" Moreau brought his other arm upwards, backhanding Conner with such power that the doctor lost his grip on the cane. Conner and the golden heirloom went flying. The cane tumbled across the floor while the raccoon rolled four times.

Again, as before, Conner reached for the cane and it magnetically returned. The doctor gritted his teeth. "I can't seem to separate you from that stupid stick! After I kill you, I'll kill your father JUST like I killed your _grandfather_!"

"It took Clockwerk and four powerful men to take down my grandfather! You were far from able to do it yourself! You weren't even there!"

Moreau got to all fours again, barely able to stand from the powerful shaking. "No, you bumpkin, I'm the one who gave Clockwerk the location of the Cooper household! I knew that I would need the cane to open the vault! But that idiot bird screwed it up! The cane went missing because it apparently disappeared with your eight-year-old father! I'd simply assumed that Conner didn't keep it in the house and so it was lost for good. But make no mistake, boy, I'm the one who sentenced your grandfather to his death! I don't regret it, either!"

"I'm sure he's waiting for you," shouted the teenager. "You'll know soon enough because you're about to join him!" Again young Cooper charged the old man, sprinting on his tiptoes with ease through the shaking room. He leapt into the air, bounced off the wall then came down upon Moreau from above with Drake Cooper's quick dive attack. The spinning cane struck the mandrill, sending both back to the floor again.

Doctor M kicked the boy away and shouted, "JUST DIE!" He bounded across the ground like an angry gorilla, partially walking on his knuckles. He raised both fists together, ready to crush Conner's skull.

The boy, having landed on his back, kicked his legs out, taking Moreau's feet out from beneath him. He lifted the cane and jammed the sharp end of the hook into the mandrill's shoulder in an attempt to get at the man's neck.

Moreau opened his arms, knocking Conner away again. He then reached for the burning cane and ripped it from his torso then threw it like a projectile. Conner gracefully caught it in mid air then turned about and used the momentum to strike the older man across the jaw. Two teeth rattled across the wildly vibrating floor.

Again, Conner came at him. Moreau reached into the attack, taking the brunt of it with a groan. He grabbed the teenager by his clothes. He threw the raccoon into the wall then turned about and made a dash for the machine on the far wall. He drew his fist back and struck the metal cover, knocking it free then closed his hands around one of the large shimmering crystals… abruptly both he and the illuminated gem disappeared. The shaking ended. Moreau was nowhere to be found.

Conner hurried over to Karla and lifted her into his arms, along with the staff of Moses she still held. "Wake up, he got away and there's no apparent way in or out of this room." Karla stirred with a soft groan then murmured his name. Conner grinned. "Yeah, we're still alive. I can't believe that old cantankerous freak managed to hit you like that."

"He anticipated where I would teleport; he was ready." She moaned from the pain of her aching body and joints. "He hits really hard."

* * *

**Bentley and Murray** sighed in relief. Bentley punched in a code on the computer and the screen returned the message, "Evacuation plan alpha to commence: Yes or No?" The turtle grinned and clicked 'yes'.

Murray fidgeted. "You would think the whole city would evacuate after that massive earthquake, regardless of what we do."

"You'd think… but it's better to be safe than sorry…" He paused then tilted his head. "Wait, it's not going to let me run the script until…" The reptile tilted his head the other direction. "It's asking me a riddle." He blinked then pressed the 'enter' key.

The computer verbally asked, "Which creature in the morning goes on four legs, at mid-day on two, and in the evening upon three, and the more legs it has, the weaker it be?"

Bentley rubbed his chin. Murray began to open his mouth but was quickly hushed by the tortoise. "Just let me think about it." He looked down and gazed at his legs encased in the recently rejoined bionic leg attachments that had been left adjacent to his hibernation stasis pod up until his rescue. His eyes widened. "Mortal men!" he replied.

The computer flashed. "Correct."

"I don't get it," murmured Murray with a frown.

"Well, Murray, early in life, we crawl on all fours as a baby. We walk on two legs as an adult, and, often, near the end of our lives, we walk with a cane… and sometimes crutches if we're truly weakened."

The computer then posed a second question. "There are two sisters: One who gives birth to the other and she, in turn, gives birth to the first. Speak the names of these two sisters the order in which they exist."

Bentley blinked three times. "This isn't an M.C. Escher drawing – how is that even possible?" He began to ramble, unable to wrap his mind around the simplistic metaphor utilized by the computerized riddle. "Oh man, oh man," he began to chant, trying to visualize the wording of the riddle. "…Oh man."

"It's okay, buddy," said Murray with a shrug. "At least the earthquake has stopped, right?"

"Sixty seconds until counter defense measures are employed," announced the computer in a joyful feminine tone.

"Crap!" Bentley began pacing nervously. He used his small hands, waving them about as though trying to figure out an answer. He began listing fertility gods and goddesses by name, rambling to himself. The computer reached twenty seconds and began to count backwards. It hit the ten-second mark.

"Aw man," Murray said with a shrug. "Why don't you just guess?"

"Why don't YOU just guess!" exclaimed the frustrated turtle. "We have eight seconds… _seven_ seconds left!"

Murray cleared his throat as the computer announced the five-second mark clearly. "Uh, how about Day and Night?"

"Murray! What were you THINKING? That has _got_ to be the _stupidest_ guess; it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with birthing or sisters! Furthermore, we've now wasted our one guess!"

"Correct." The concise tone was punctuated by a chirp. The computer's graphical user interface changed, showing security footage of the lifeboats. People in the city began to head towards the domed walls that loomed on all sides.

Again, Bentley blinked several times. He then turned to Murray. "Holy smokes… you _did it_, Murray!"

The hippo offered a relaxed shrug. "Yeah… I've heard that one before on an old Johnny Quest rerun. I think the Sphinx asked 'em that one. I think they said it was a Greek riddle and that the words for _day_ and _night_ are both, like, you know… feminine in that language... which means they _could_ be sisters. The whole birthing thing is kind of weird, though. That was an awesome cartoon… I should download all the episodes on my iPod when we get home."

The turtle's jaw went slack, his eyes went wide and he gawked at his childhood friend. The gawking gave way to a leering glare. Finally, he swallowed his pride and said, "You did real good, Murray. I'm impressed, big guy. Let's head back. I want to see if Carmen is finally awake."

* * *

**"I hate when a plan goes awry**," murmured Carmelita.

"So why send Winthrop and Kalen off to hunt?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because, Sly, we didn't find Moreau. I'm certainly not going to stalk around with Winthrop and a pair of old handcuffs. Look, it was a dumb idea anyway. There's no way that guy would fall for it. He's pretty smart, after all. I'm sure he's created a difference in order to tell us apart… just in case."

"You're the one who beat him before. We'll take him as a team this time."

"I remember," she said with a slight smile. "We make a good team when we work together instead of against one another." She stopped and pointed to another small building near where they stood at the opposite end of the empty city. "Look, another one." She took the cane from her husband and pushed it into the effigy on the door. It opened with ease. Inside, there were more glyphs on the walls, another golden pedestal and a stone bench. "As curious as I am concerning Kalen's ability to read those markings so easily… I kinda' wish he was here to tell us what some of this stuff says…"

"It says this stuff was never meant to be found," Sly told her with a shrug. "I know everything I need to know about my family. If Kalen is accurate then this city was the birthplace to the Master Thieves. One of the members must have started the Cooper line but who knows – that could have happened over a thousand years after leaving this city. Maybe my ancestors were the last people to keep up the traditions of the guild that lived here… but who knows for sure? It may be where the canes came from and why they're endowed with so many incredible abilities but… it whatever is written on these walls will _not_ help us find Conner or stop Moreau… and that takes precedence."

Sly grew quiet. His ears perked. He turned around, coming face to face with Winthrop and Kalen. "Wait, what are you guys doing here?"

Winthrop quickly butted in front of the jackal and said, "We made good time, and it's not far, after all. We were on the top floor of that damned place… and we couldn't find _any_ sign of the soldiers that follow Doc M. I have NO IDEA where they went, but I was under the impression that there are supposed to be a LOT of enemy soldiers – anyhow. We were nearly to the roof when the earthquake started and let me tell _you_! It was _insane_ trying to get back down those stone stairs! That place is _over_ ten stories tall!"

Carmelita shook her head. "Why are you always such a coward?"

He narrowed his gaze. "The handrails were made of iron – far too rusted to do much; the shaking turned what was left into dust, so there was nothing to hold on to, Carmelita! If I die, who's going to raise my toddler? I have a baby to consider, here!"

Carmelita closed her eyes and lifted her paws defensively. "Okay, whatever… calm down." She then reached passed him and took Kalen by the wrist. "Come here and read something."

Kalen wordlessly bumped by the weasel and stepped into the small dwelling. He looked around and picked out a line of glyphs at random. "That one over there says that this clan of raccoon thieves were contracted by the city to do all of its dirty work. They stole from the Athenians and spied on all of Greece. They stole from powerful worldly leaders, like the Pharos, and learned of their treaties. They ensured that the rest of the globe stayed technologically inept out of fear that the world would not know how to control this power without harm coming to the globe. However, the Khopesh clan of thieves also had a code of honor never to steal from an innocent who has worked hard to earn their living. To never dishonor the poor or needy and, when possible, to punish people who are greedy above and beyond their means… to where it brings pain or turmoil to the commoner."

"Interesting." Carmelita drew back into silence. No one else spoke.

Finally, Kalen said, "We should return to our original plan. I will escort Mister Cooper while she escorts Winthrop as if in captivity. Moreau has yet to return to the surface because the elevator is still here on our level. Unless there is another way down here, I am assuming that Moreau must be here somewhere."

Carmelita sighed. "This idea seems above and beyond…"

Winthrop interrupted. "Senior Inspector," he said with a sigh. "It's perfectly decent. Your husband came up with it and, as much as I've disliked him for most of my life… I have to agree with him now… I met your clone while she was walking and talking… you'll pass as her if you pretend to drop all conceivable notions of anything leading up to Kane Island. You never married him; you never had children… You think Cooper was attacking Moreau's island, since he owned a copy of the deed… you took down Cooper who disappeared only to temporarily resurface in Prague. You had a run-in with my wife, remember defeating everyone and exposing Sire as a fraudulent Secretariat General… then started working for Moreau a number of years later when you found out that he intends to 'help humanity'. There. You've been briefed… As much as I don't like the thought of walking around in cuffs… we're bound to run into that freak sooner or later… it's the best idea."

Sly leaned in and kissed his wife. "If you get into trouble, find the nearest power conduit and destroy it. I'll see the sparks and come running."

"Okay." She lowered her gaze again. "Winthrop," she tossed him a set of handcuffs and shrugged. "You're with me, scumball. If you make a sound other than asking to use the bathroom, I'll break your fingers."

Kalen nodded. "Quite convincing."

Winthrop nodded, putting the handcuffs onto his wrists in a way that wasn't tight or painful. "Actually… she's quite good for having never met the clone. You guys missed out… that chick was… she had a nasty temperamental attitude."

Sly nodded, watching Winthrop get led away by Carmelita. He turned to Kalen and stuffed his cane into the back of his belt. "Well… I guess we'll go in the opposite direction to cover more ground… exactly what we said we _shouldn't_ do without proper communication abilities. Let's go."

The two stepped from the small stone building and began walking up the narrow streets, side by side. "How could you read that stuff?"

Kalen shook his head. "I'm not sure. It's different than hieroglyphs. Like, the Khopesh would be a striped ball and a square above a rectangle next to an image of a Khopesh… but the glyph here is a sideways question mark without the dot at the bottom… atop of an oval with two triangles for 'ears'. But I can read it like I can read English or French. I'm not sure how that's possible. I recall every detail of my life and I've never seen these glyphs before."

"So it's a possibility you could be wrong?"

"Absolutely. If my mind is somehow telling me what I'm reading… but it turns out to be completely wrong… then how would I know it? I would _think_ I'm right… but knowing that I've never learned those glyphs…" He shook his head. "Such poses a confusing inquiry, does it not?" He motioned onwards. "Don't worry… I'm no clone by the likes of Karla Chintzy. It's impossible to genetically replicate undead reanimated cellular tissue. It has to be created alive then embraced with the curse to become as I am. I was only embraced once… but I _am_ frightfully aged."

"Look." Sly lifted his paw, pointing towards a large two story complex with light smoke billowing through the windows. "Suddenly I think we're back on the right track."

"Shall we find Carmelita and Winthrop first?"

"Hell no." Sly smiled. "I'd rather they stay safe. Let's do this… my kid said you're a royal badass in the ring… That's putting it nicely… Are you ready?"

"I am, indeed. However, I'll require sustenance soon. I woke from hibernation rather famished." The two men headed for the building.

They passed into the large warehouse-like room, coming face to face with an encampment of armed soldiers sans Moreau. The old doctor was nowhere to be found. "Hey!" shouted a lookout guard. Everyone grabbed for their weapons, stood up and turned towards the doors.

Sly lifted his paws to shoulder height. "Hey back… just relax everyone. I'm here for your boss. Where is he?"

"He ain't here!" shouted one soldier.

"_Ain't_ ain't a word, so I ain't going to use it no more," replied Sly in a relaxed southern draw. "Next question, then… where can I find him? I have business to conduct with your boss and if he's without his body guards… then who is going to protect you boys?"

"Take him down!" called another. A single gunshot rang out.

Sly, by the time he heard the order, reached back and withdrew his new cane. The round slammed into the cane but deflected against the metal. The surface of the hook appeared flawless and un-nicked. The round struck the ceiling, bounced against the wall and disappeared into the floor. "Slow down," Sly told them. "Don't you guys want to evacuate with your families? I mean that was a _mean_ earthquake, earlier. Why don't you guys just go topside with everyone else?"

"Kill the sunovabitch!" The room roared to life with the applause of metallic clicking from the sound-suppressed gunfire.

"Here we go again," muttered Sly. Everything slowed down around him, allowing him to see the rounds and their trails. He dodged and evaded carefully, nimbly moving between them. However, he was unable to hold out his concentration for long.

Meanwhile, Kalen dropped to all fours, pushed off his forepaws and lunged through the line of gunmen like a tackling football player. He sank his fangs into the first throat he could reach. Another nearby trooper shouted in fear, witnessing such an act. It garnished the attention of his coworkers and drew heat from Sly Cooper.

"Forget about the one with the shepherd's crook!" someone said.

Kalen pinned his victim up against a wall, retracted his fangs then dropped the man to the floor and turned to the rest of the soldiers. "It's more of a Crosier, don't you think?" He licked his fangs then offered a guttural hiss.

Cooper watched in partial amusement as two-dozen men backed up. The front row of them lifted their weapons, aiming at Kalen. The jackal cut his gaze through the crowd, offered the raccoon a grin, then lifted his paws. "You're not going to ruin my fresh new clothes, are you?"

Sly removed a hat from his head and tucked his free paw into it. After a moment, he tossed the simple black cap to the floor and kicked it into the pack of men's boots.

"What're you doing?" asked Kalen, while removing his dress jacket unlike the way his last one was ruined in Miami when fighting alongside Conner all those years ago.

"Rob McCooper's _hat trick_. You can think of it as a hockey term if you _really_ want to." The cap exploded, sending the ranks of men in every direction. Sly dashed in, hooking his new cane around the nearest soldier. He placed a foot on the torso of another then pushed off of the second man to better fling the first.

Meanwhile, Kalen clamped his fist over the barrel of the nearest gun. He bent the end to the left just as the gunner pulled his trigger. The round fired off to the side, striking the next soldier over. Meanwhile, Kalen brought his other paw up, took the first gunner by his throat and began to lift. The gun, which jammed on its very next shot, fell to the floor clattering loudly. However, its sound was lost in the ambient noise of the ensuing scuffle.

Two rounds pierced through Kalen's torso and out through his back. He swung the man's body through the air so that his legs struck several other gunmen. Shouting over the general noise, Kalen said, "Why did we go into this building again?"

Sly ran up a nearby wall, kicked off of it and flipped overtop of a pursuing guard. He dropped to a squat behind the man, and, using his cane, he snagged the heavy-duty utility belt and lifted. The soldier rose into the air, struck the ceiling then came down to the ground behind Sly. Cooper shouted back, "I saw steam or something coming out of a window on the far end!"

"Strange, I don't see it now!" replied Kalen. He took another man by his forehead in one palm and shoulders in another. The canine's final act was to pump two more rounds into Kalen's torso just before having his head turned one way and his body turned another. The jackal cut his gaze right, seeing another man rapidly approaching. He tensed, causing his victim's head to become twisted straight off the body. Kalen backhandedly jerked his right arm outward, throwing the head with tremendous force. It struck the incoming attacker and knocked the man to the floor.

Sly, across the room, broke into a rapid spin, using his cane to catch three attackers at once. As he came out of the twist, he called back to Kalen. "Yeah, funny how that works! You're making a mess!"

"It happens!" returned Kalen as he reached for another soldier who recoiled away, cringing evasively. The jackal lifted the remains of the body in his left fist and chucked it into the soldier that was just beyond his reach. Unable to evade the incoming body, the gunman found himself bowled to the floor with a cry of panic and frustration. Kalen shoved another man up against the wall with such force that it broke the man's ribs. With his other hand, he picked up the fallen male and effortlessly tossed him towards Cooper.

Sly snagged the body from the air with his cane, turned about then slung the man back into the crowd of troops. A round struck his cane merely inches above his gray-furred fingertips. The deflected bullet struck a nearby motionless body, slumped on the floor.

"I'd still like to know how you read the glyphs!" Sly said in a loud voice, capitalizing on the moment to make conversation during the combat.

"Things are not as they seem! With Moreau separated from these guards, with my strange knowledge of a dead written language," he paused, taking a gunner's muzzle into his paws. Kalen forcibly separated the canine's maw until the bones cracked, the flesh ripped and his face split. Kalen continued speaking. "Furthermore, if Moreau really _is_ cut off from his men and is with your son and Karla… he may already be dead!"

"He's a Cooper… finishing the fight on his own is what he's most likely trying to do!" Sly winced, seeing another man shredded with relative ease. "Good lord, there are a lot of these guys!"

"I'm confounded and vexed by this menagerie of freaks!" Kalen ended the statement with a triumphant shout, taking down two men at once, a canine in his left paw and a feline in his right. He tossed their bodies into the throng of guards left standing. It bowled them over. He snagged the closest man by the shirt, lifted him high and glowered. The vampire opened his maw, his fangs extending; he then lunged forward, biting into the soldier's carotid artery. The victim struggled for a matter of seconds before going limp yet Kalen continued to feed.

Sly winced then brought his cane back and went into another full swing, twirling through the downed men, scattering them in multiple directions. Cooper opened his stance, coming to a halt in a sporty pose. "Boy, and I thought I was a fast drinker," he said in reference to the time in Australia when he challenged a gang of miners to a drinking contest. "That guy is looking really pale."

Kalen disposed of the body and went for another. The man on the floor scrambled to get away but the jackal plucked him up by his collar, turned him around and wrapped his hunger-bruised lips into the man's throat, forcing bloody fangs into the flesh and fur covering. The man screamed at first then quite suddenly relaxed with an awkwardly contented sigh.

The vampire's wounds mended themselves and coloration came back to his face, noticeable through his golden fur. The jackal's eyes widened and he threw the man to the floor with such force that it killed the mortal instantly. Meanwhile, the last six guards rushed from the floor to escape the building. They fled for their safety and disappeared.

Kalen turned to Sly and said, "I remember! Not every detail – I recall taking a gunshot to the head from Moreau… some of the details are gone, blown away by his bullet. But when he captured me… he used me as a test subject on the knowledge cube recovered from the Atlantis Library. When the holder takes it into their grasp, they learn the knowledge stored within it… using it, I learned to read their scrawl… but before he imprisoned me in the hibernation chamber… he put a bullet into my head in an attempt to strip my memories… In that endevor, he was only partially successful… I remember nothing of what I'd learned from the cube… possibly from where he'd shot me – possibly from where that knowledge was stored in my mind… different from my older memories… and certainly not in the part of my brain that stores acquired skill information, like reading and writing… thus I maintained my ability to read… and the hole in my head mended fully after feeding. There's one more thing…"

Sly, floored by Kalen's explanation, asked, "What's the one more thing?"

"The man who struck down your son… I do not recall his name as I was not there when it happened… he was an enforcer here in this city…"

"Yeah? What about him?"

"There are _two_ of him – both of which were present during my capture and imprisonment."

"That… can't be good," said Sly. "We've got to warn the others." He lifted his head to a machine against the far wall. "I wonder what those meatheads were protecting that thing for…" He approached the computer and tapped it with his cane. It sounded semi-hollow. "Whatever it is… it's time to destroy it." He jumped into the air, cane extended, then brought the hooked end down on the machine with all his force and weight.

* * *

**Sly Cooper dropped to all fours** with a grunt. He retrieved his cane only to blink at the sudden realization that it was glowing gently. He looked about but the stone dwelling was empty. There was a hallway at the upper left corner. Along the walls were rotted old crates and jars once containing foodstuffs. He stalked out of the room, looking about to try and get his bearings. "Did I just… teleport?"

"Dad?" Conner's excited but confused tone caused Sly to increase his pace, coming through the hall. The room opened up into another group of storage rooms. "He's over there!"

Sly blinked. "Who?" He sniffed at the air, coming alongside his boy. The scent was familiar and brought about a sense of urgency and anger. Together they moved into the next section. Conner broke into a sprint and Sly followed. Another room opened up at the end of the next hall and at the far end was Moreau facing the wall. The elder Cooper narrowed his gaze. Not one to question providence, he assumed his teleportation had something to do with hitting the computer back in the other room. "End of the road, old man."

The doctor turned about. His face was bloodied and his left eye was swollen halfway shut. "It _would_ have to come to this, wouldn't it?" Moreau gritted his teeth, glaring at the two raccoons. He then paused with a blink of confusion. "There are _two_ canes?"

Conner glanced over his shoulder, seeing the hook in his father's paw. He wanted to comment on it, especially since he apparently didn't notice it up to this point. Instead, he turned back to Moreau and said, "Things are looking grim, pal. You don't have your weirdo creations to help you… it's just the three of us… I think it was meant to happen this way." The teenager began a slow approach.

Sly used his newer cane, placing it in front of his son to stop the boy in his tracks. "This guy can take a stupid-ridiculous beating without dying. I know he's older than dirt now… but he's spliced his genes and did some work on his body… He's not normal anymore so… no use rushing in."

"How did you find us?"

Sly shook his head, giving his wood-handled cane a slow twirl. "I don't know. The lights flashed and I was here."

Moreau furrowed his brows. "Same… apparently your boy's little electrical sideshow abilities are somehow triggering the teleportation pads throughout Atlantis."

"That's what those things are?" asked Sly. "I guess Winthrop was right." He abruptly added, "It doesn't have to be this way, Fonzie. You had my father's back in the olden days… I don't mind letting bygones be bygones but it won't happen without the artifacts and your cooperation."

"Forget him, dad! He's the one who gave Clockwerk and the Fiendish Five the address to the Cooper home! He's a murderous freak! This ends _tonight_!"

"Is this true?" asked Sly with a firm, calm tone.

Moreau glanced from left to right. "It is and I would have done it again." He knew he had nothing left but his strength. "Your son is correct, Cooper… it ends tonight."

Sly lifted his cane and brushed it against Conner's. Dazzling sparks created a series of flashes that illuminated the walls, floor and ceiling. The two began to approach Doctor M slowly.

The younger Cooper cleared his voice and asked, "Where is the power crystal?"

"I put it into the siege engine. In time, the beautiful city of Atlantis will become the weapon it was _designed_ to be."

Sly lifted his cane and swung it, shouting, "Wrong!" Conner moved to the flank, swinging his own cane.

Moreau lifted both of his hands and caught both canes directly beneath their hooked sections. He gritted his teeth, panting through them. His knees wobbled and his arms wavered. "I'll take you _both_ down and end your godforsaken line!"

Conner brought a foot up, catching the mandrill behind his left leg. Moreau collapsed to his left knee but clung to both canes. Next, Conner tightened his grip, charging his cane.

Sly used his right paw to hold his cane and quickly flung his left paw forward, jabbing the doctor across the face with a sharp sucker punch. Another tooth rattled across the dusty, cracked floor tiles. Even with Moreau holding the cane, Sly brought his other paw back, gripped his cane by the fulcrum and slammed the hilt against the ground, charging the hook. Soft blue bolts of electricity (A/N: _A power-up in Sly2!_) rolled over the metal top like an over-amped Tesla coil.

Unexpectedly, an arc of raw energy connected Conner and Sly's canes, just inches from Moreau's face. Beads of sweat mixed with trickling blood ran down the mandrill's face. A guttural growl emanated from the back of his throat, trying to keep both canes at arm's length. The hand he had on Conner's cane was starting to swell from the intensity of the current being forced into his fleshy palm.

Conner, frustrated by being so close to victory, brought his left leg up and struck Moreau in the crotch. The simian primate dropped to both knees with a groan of pain. The younger Cooper jerked his cane back from the older man's grip then brought it down upon Moreau's head. The stored energy in Conner's cane broke free, coursing into the mandrill's body. The doctor cried out in agony but with a cracked voice.

Fed by adrenaline and the will to live, Moreau jumped upwards, arms out. His clothesline maneuver bowled over both raccoons. He then whirled about, lifted his fist high into the air and brought it down over Sly's face.

An intercepting cane with a full gold handle moved between the mandrill's fist and his Sly's head. Moreau struck a blue field of raw energy. The kinetic connection forced the energy back into Moreau, throwing him away. Conner then jerked his cane out, catching Moreau in his legs, beneath the knees.

The elder man howled in agony then kicked his leg outwards in response to the pain. His foot caught Conner in the face with surprising force. He then turned back to Sly, picked the fifty-year-old up by his shoulder and slung the raccoon across the room. Sly struck the wall with his back and dropped to his knees.

Livid, Conner lunged at Moreau, pushing the bottom of his cane out in an attempt to impale the villainous man. Moreau caught the cane and stepped into the reversal, slinging Conner about but the raccoon held on tightly. His powerful grip charged the cane.

Moreau, rather suddenly electrocuted, was forced to release the cane. Conner and his staff flew across the room but he bound off the wall, dropped to the floor in a graceful roll then stood back up. He brought his cane upwards as if to attack low but Moreau was again ready. This time, the ape took Conner by the neck and threw him into his father. Both raccoons dropped to the ground with a loud two-toned groan.

His red-speckled lab coat billowed behind his body; he picked up both canes and lifted them. "DIE!" shouted the mandrill. He clutched both canes tightly and swung them down. From their proximity to one another, both held by the same person, the shared energy was released into his body and, all at once, Alphonse Moreau disappeared. Both canes dropped harmlessly to the ground, clattering on the tiles.

Sly eased up on an elbow, beneath the body of his haphazardly strewn son. "Where'd he go?"

With a guttural, long-winded groan, Conner rolled off of his father and sat up. "I don't know… we've got to find him and kill him." He froze then reached for his father's shirt, tugging at the collar. "Dad, look!"

Both canes lay atop of one another, glowing vibrantly. Arcs of electricity rolled about them, occasionally creating a sizzling and snapping sound reminiscent of an old bug zapping light. Sly rubbed his face with his palms. "Was the old man vaporized?"

"I doubt it." Conner slumped back against the wall, panting softly. "I think he somehow teleported again… but the look on his face made it seem pretty painful this time."

"We'll find him… how do we get out of this place?"

"I'm not sure." He sighed and reached into his pocket. "I re-retrieved this …Each time was harder than it should have been… anyhow… there's a seed inside of this thing." He withdrew the Firestone of India and gave it to his father. "They claim it's a fragment from the seed that belonged to the mythical tree from the Garden of Eden. Whatever, right?" His father took it. Conner's gaze lowered, catching sight of his cell phone face down on the floor. He picked it up and checked the screen to make sure it wasn't cracked only to blink in amazement. "I have two bars of service." He lifted the phone up and said, "Did you see that?"

A monotone voice came over the built in speaker. "It appears the energy from the combined canes may have disintegrated him. Teleportation cannot be verified."

Sly, recognizing the voice, said, "Is _that_ who I _think it is_?" He stuffed the chunk of amber into his pocket.

Conner held the phone towards his father and announced, "Tell my dad that he's the strongest Cooper you've _ever_ faced."

The phone's speaker distorted from the low tone of the voice. "He needs no such assurance; despite my insult from thirty-two years ago, he knows he's the only Cooper to have defeated me."

Sly took the phone into his palm. "On three occasions. So… you've been reduced to a cell phone?"

Conner shook his head and, softly, told his father, "He's in an old server box in Florida. I set it up so that he could access my cellular phone. I knew he'd been here and I told him he would either help me or I would melt his remaining parts on the spot." His voice lifted, adding, "I still _might_ melt his remaining parts on the spot."

Sly gritted his teeth then relaxed his body and passed the phone back to his son. "Like Moreau, you simply won't die for good, will you Clockwerk?" He changed gears and asked, "Did Moreau provide you with the location of my father, back in eighty-seven?"

"He contracted me to find the Cooper Cane and bring it to him. When we didn't find it we settled on the Thievius Raccoonus, a spoil of war. My ability and desire to help you has concluded, Cooper boy."

Conner shook his head. "Just like Panda King… you only help us when we're useful to your needs… Now that you saw Moreau disappear in front of the phone's camera lens… you think you're done with me. You're _both_ worthless and when I get back to Florida, I'm going to take great joy in melting you into scrap _while_ you're plugged in and running."

Sly placed a paw on his son's shoulder. "Panda King is _not_ like Clockwerk. They may have worked together the night of the raid on my father's house… but Panda was humbled. He's a changed, honest warrior. He lives by a code."

"Such codes are unnecessary," replied Clockwerk.

Conner opened the phone, pulled up the options menu and went to his application settings toolbar then deleted the application that kept him connected to Clockwerk. The voice went silent. "That felt good." He turned to his father then drew the phone to his ear and dialed Dawn.

After the third ring, her fuzzy, distorted voice came over the line. Conner smiled. "We need to round up everyone and get out of here. I have a new plan… I want you to evacuate _everyone_. We'll make it out – go on ahead of me… you'll get better reception once you're above the waves, too."

"I can barely hear you," she shouted over the static. "It sounds like you said you want me to get everyone out?"

"Yeah, go! Dad and I will be right behind you. Take all the artifacts with you! Javari will know where they're being kept!"

"I can _barely_ hear you, Conner! Say it again!"

"Get the artifacts and GET OUT!"

"We've already loaded them into a lifeboat! Please come home safe!" she said. Her voice cut out momentarily then returned with, "I love you!"

The teenage boy's face lit up. He grinned at his father who offered a smile, a wink and a nod of approval. Conner said, "I love you, too!" The call disconnected, partially severing his statement. "Damn."

Footfalls caused both Coopers to turn around, face to face with Moreau again. He held a large old clay pot above his head and brought it down vengefully upon them. It struck Sly in his shoulder but it met with Conner's forehead. The boy dropped to the floor, his eyes wide open but not blinking.

Sly turned to his boy, seeing him unresponsive. "Conner!"

Moreau snatched Sly Cooper by the throat and lifted him to the ceiling, mashing the raccoon's face against the stone surface. "Why… won't… you… just… DIE!"

Sly reached into his pocket but had only one thing left. He closed his fist around the chunk of amber and drew it out slowly. All the while, he struggled to maintain his dignity by refusing to groan in pain. The stone textured ceiling was mashed against his face, bruising the side of his muzzle. He drew in a deep, quick breath and shouted, "YOU FIRST!"

Sly Cooper jammed the small rock into Moreau's mouth, lifted his foot back then kicked the mandrill in the face, forcing the older man to partially swallow the Fire Stone. Moreau gagged and clutched at his throat. Sly dropped to the ground on his hip. This time, he groaned. His head lifted, watching Moreau gag. The flailing mandrill placed a fist against his ribcage trying to induce the Heimlich maneuver on himself unsuccessfully.

Sly sat up and crawled over to Conner. "He managed to find his way back to us, so there has to be a way out." Conner was dazed, offering no response. The boy brought his paws to his head and groaned.

The elder Cooper watched Moreau stomp about in anguish for another moment before collapsing to the floor. Unable to get the large chunk of amber from his throat, he began to gurgle, panic setting in from lack of oxygen. Sly waited until he became motionless before getting to his feet.

He picked up Conner's cane, handing it to the boy then he picked up his own. "Let's get the hell out of here." He brought his cane up against Conner's and the two hooks began to glow. Both Sly and Conner disappeared.

Sly wound up in a familiar place. One of the Master Thief dwellings he'd seen earlier – he opened the door with his hooked cane and left. There was no sign of his son. "Conner!" No answer. He sighed in frustration and headed back towards the elevator, hoping his son would head there. The air was now fresh and easy to breathe. Up ahead, the elevator rumbled down the shaft, coming to the ground. Sly hurried towards it. The doors swished open, causing Sly to balk in disbelief and incomprehension. On the platform stood Jasper Cunningham and Doctor Alphonse Moreau.

The doctor leered at Sly for a moment then rubbed his chin. "This is quite serious – if you're awake then I have serious problems."

Jasper rubbed his bruised chest. "Hey old man," he said in a chiding voice to Sly. "Your kid dislodged my pacemaker. Nearly killed me, too. See, I didn't do a good enough job back in Tampa, three years ago… I didn't kill him. He made the same mistake an hour ago. It all started in Russia when _you_ let _me_ live. It's time I break the cycle."

Sly simply asked, "Huh?" A pause, then, "Didn't you help us out, earlier?"

"Not me," said Jasper with a smirk. He turned to Moreau and smirked. "I have unfinished business – don't worry, he doesn't have any help. It's one on one, here… I'll finish him off. Go take care of your business."

"Indeed I shall." Moreau walked away from the elevator shaft, which extended from the ceiling of the dome right to the center of the street. He stood on a golden platform and said, "I've sent the balk of my soldiers upstairs – they'll find the freshly thawed prisoners and dispatch them before they can escape. I fear I may have another mess to clean up. Make sure he doesn't get away, Jasper." Moreau, calm, cool and collected, disappeared on the teleportation pad.

Sly glanced back at Cunningham and said, "He was a lot crazier five minutes ago."

"The idiot you saw got overzealous in the Library of Atlantis. The knowledge cube is an interestin' thing, but it's hard on the brain. That's a long story, chump. I'm sure you'd find it all real fascinatin' but since it's time to die, you'll get the lowdown straight from Saint Peter."

Sly frowned. The elevator car lifted in the shaft – his only way out of Atlantis. He backed slowly away from Jasper and said, "So you got cloned, too, huh? Ever since Moreau got his hands on that technology, he's gone overboard with it. Your doppelganger wasn't such an idiot… shame you couldn't be more like him."

"He developed the same problems as me – he's about to die, too; that is… if he hasn't already. Since you miss him so much, you can join him. The moron was a little _too_ obsessed with the Boss Lady, upstairs. I know she ain't the real thing but I still hold a grudge against her for what happened in Russia. I think pounding on your face will be therapeutic." He pumped his fist into his other palm.

"Yeah, he took a full bullets and died in combat. He's up in the penthouse observatory hall, on the top floor of the tall building, where my son apparently stomped _your_ ass earlier. How did _you_ wind up in that lobby?"

"Because the other Jasper found me injured after my fight with Conner Cooper. He resuscitated me and told me what was happening in the city. We got into an argument and I called him a weakling. We argued about my brother Tony, the two-gun meathead you know as "Muggshot" and, then, we argued about Carmelita Fox. I picked up the remains of the chandelier and pulverized his pansy ass with it and left him to die. Now… enough small talk, raccoon." The elevator car came back down the shaft. "It's time to die."

"Yeah? You and what army, you idiot?" Cooper gave his cane a twirl.

The doors of the elevator opened and two-dozen armed guards poured out, bringing their weapons to bear on Sly Cooper. The raccoon, initially having expected the cavalry to arrive, deadpanned with a groan. "I didn't see that coming."

"Ironic, huh? I guess it'll be me and _this_ army!" He reached for two over sized blaster pistols, withdrawing them from his hip holsters. "It'll be a _pleasure_ tanning your hide for good, ya skinny lil' chump!"

* * *

A/N: _Woo! Okay… back on track… I had SO MUCH to write about in the last chapter that I decided to break it into TWO PARTS. Literally, this was only the half-way mark of the original final chapter. During a re-read, it felt like a great place to stop with a cliffhanger! Yay fighting! There was a LOT of fighting in this chapter! Lol _

_There may only be one chapter left but there's a LOT going on in the next… last… chapter. Of course, there will also be an epilogue. And stuff! _

_Didn't anyone notice that Jasper 'died' two ways? First, Conner stomped on his chest, then he wakes up, helps Sly and takes a bullet instead? Hmm. Then Moreau is portrayed as sane, then he acts kinda' crazy. And what about Kalen knowing how to read the glyphs? What's left to find out? Well, plenty actually. For example, Stephan told the heroes that Atlantis fell from the sky then remained afloat for a hundred years or so… then it sank into the ocean. Yet, later on, Moreau says that Atlantis fell from the sky and staid afloat for a THOUSAND years. So who was right? What of Arty Crowell? Will he live? Why did Moreau imprison him? What possible importance could he have? What about the large and small body given to Clockwerk in Spy Cooper? Where are they? What does Stephan need the Orichalcum leftovers for? What does Carmen's government job have to do with any of this? In Spy Cooper, the characters had just learned of the United States Zeus Cannon Satellite, determined necessary to take down Clockwerk… but Clockwerk is still technically alive… does that play into any of this? MAYBE! And, the most important question of all… what happens to the heroes? What happens to Sly? He's face to face with the real Jasper Cunningham, who has two-dozen armed guards ten feet behind the big bulldog. Any thoughts? Hmm? _

_Thanks for reading! Any comments or thoughts? Any at all? Let me know what's on your mind! Public or private, it makes no difference to me! Say hi, if you want! xD_

_-Me_


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: _Okay so it's been since August 16__th__ 2009. It's now November 1__st__, 2010. Sorry! I swear we're almost done, here! Those of you who are still reading this… I LOVE YOU!  
__:D  
__This is the LAST CHAPTER… technically.  
__There will be ONE MORE UPDATE – Chapter 35 __**WITH**__ the Epilogue. Yay!  
__And here we go!_

Chapter -**34**-

**"There he is, men!"** shouted one of the guards. They kept their guns aimed forward. No one blinked, no one breathed. Jasper and Sly Cooper faced off, gaze locked, teeth gritted. Jasper offered a dark smile of victory and lifted his weapons up in the air, giving them an impressive double twirl. Cunningham began chuckling; the lead guard shouted, "FIRE!"

Sly lifted his new cane, ready to shield himself at a moment's notice but not having anywhere else to run. The guns fired in near unison. Cooper flinched then blinked. Jasper's eyes widened in confusion.

The large bulldog dropped to his knees. His guns fell, clattering on the ground. Slowly, he eased forth and came crashing to the dusty pavement. Blood pooled around his body.

The lead gunner stepped off the elevator, nudging a smoking barrel against the backside of Jasper's neck. He glanced over his shoulder and confirmed to his men, "Tango down – stand by." He turned his attention over to Cooper and added, "Earlier, you did well not to fire on us upstairs in the penthouse suite. If you don't resist, I'll put you in custody under consideration for your non-hostile actions. You're under arrest for the theft of private property from Doctor Moreau's personal quarters. You're under arrest in connection with the attack and murders of the guards posted in that location. We don't do Miranda Rights down here – get on your knees so we can cuff you."

Cooper frowned, weighing his lack of options. "Yeah… Don't worry guys, cooperation seems like a good idea at this point." He was still in a state of shock at the realization that these men assumed Jasper was the rogue clone who helped Sly, Winthrop and Murray steal the hibernation pod from Moreau's private penthouse.

"It's Enforcer Carmelita Fox!" shouted someone. They saluted, while the lead gunner approached Sly Cooper with handcuffs.

"Miss Fox, we were just apprehending this man for theft!" said the lead guard with pride in his voice.

Carmelita, realizing that they thought she was the head enforcer, approached them. "Unhand him – he was working for _me_ as a double agent. He's not your enemy," she told them. The leader backed off and fell into line with his men in front of the elevator car. She approached Sly, looked him over with a smirk then nodded towards the leader, adding, "Good job, though. You did exactly what you were supposed to do." She nudged the dead over-sized canine with her boot, adding, "This one was quite the troublemaker. And here I thought he was going to be my protégé. It turns out my trust was misplaced, now wasn't it? Good job men. Take this one away and file the necessary paperwork on the attack. Doctor M will be notified of your sterling field conduct."

"Th-thank you, Miss Fox. I've… you've never really… I appreciate your compliments."

"Yes, well, you shot the right man and apprehended the other – that's worth a compliment. Now clean up this mess and return to the surface. I understand that we're evacuating from an earthquake. I want you upstairs, helping to restore order to ensure that everyone exits safely to the appropriately designated extraction points notated in your emergency situation manuals. Now move out."

The group approached Jasper with four men each taking an arm or leg. They drew the bulldog's body onto the elevator car and ascended into the shaft.

Carmelita approached Sly and hugged him once they were out of visual range. He returned the embrace and said, "Now _that_ was convincing! You did better than I _ever_ could have done, even with my best disguise! Damn, girl, I'm proud to call you 'wife'!"

"Incidentally, how did you know what would be in their 'emergency situation manuals', sweetheart?"

"Everyone has something like that, especially in a place where you're in charge of the safety of bystanders." Carmelita shook her head but buried her face into his chest for a moment. "We couldn't find Conner; I don't know where Winthrop and Kalen are."

"Conner is still around here. We beat Moreau together… or so I thought. It turns out Moreau had a freaking clone of himself, too. Now both Jaspers are dead, but we have one Doctor M left… the real one, unfortunately. Conner and I separated during a teleport… We found out that if you create an electricity surge, it teleports you… but only if you're standing on one of those gold pads we saw earlier. Either way, those things are everywhere down here."

She lifted her head, looking up at him. "You mean… Winthrop was actually _right_ about those things?"

"Yeah… apparently. Weird, huh?" He pulled her close again then lifted his head. His ears perked and his nose twitched. At the end of the block, Winthrop and Kalen came into view.

"Any sign of my wife?" asked Winthrop from a block away. His voice caused Carmelita to turn away from Sly and fold her arms. The weasel approached everyone, Kalen in tow, and said, "We've not seen anyone but a few guards. They were a pain but… they won't be bothering anyone."

"Quite right," added Kalen. "Winthrop surprised me. I expected little of him only to find out that he's quite trustworthy as a field ally. I dare tell you that he saved _my_ life."

Carmelita deadpanned then quirked her brows. "Winthrop saved _you_, Kalen?"

The weasel folded his arms, glaring at his old employer. "An attacker put a magnum to Kalen's neck from behind. At that range, it would have decapitated this guy… But I shot the attacker in the temple before the trigger could be pulled."

Kalen nodded and said, "A combination of luck and skill – we'll call it 'fate'. Winthrop's round provided an instant one-shot kill; it kept the attacker from pulling the trigger. Instead, the attacker dropped the gun and fell to the ground without firing it. An expert shot, I must confess."

Carmelita tightened her jaw. "Enough – no need to be redundant or verbose, Kalen." She glanced back down, momentarily, at the blood on the ground – all that remained of Jasper Cunningham.

Sly grinned impishly at Winthrop and said, "We'll find your wife, bud. Don't worry."

"Don't worry yourselves," came a feminine voice. Everyone turned to a disheveled Karla Weasel, whose torn shirtsleeve and ruffled fur caused Winthrop's eyes to widen. He approached her and they embraced.

"Where's my son?" asked Carmelita.

"I thought he would be here," she replied in a weary voice. "Moreau hits hard. But…" she trailed off and glanced at Sly. "I saw he's dead. Interesting way of giving him the damn artifact he wanted. If Conner isn't here, we've got to find him."

Carmelita stepped away from Sly and walked around the puddle of blood on the ground in front of the elevator car. She pressed the call button on the control panel. "Everyone go 'upstairs' and make sure you get all the artifacts. Also, make sure everyone gets out. We ALL need to leave together, alive." She turned to Karla and said, "You're with me. I need your abilities if you think you're up to it."

Karla smirked. "That's fine. But don't bring your husband because his cane will trigger whatever it was that split us up." She pointed to his cane. "Conner's caused a teleportation." She frowned then asked, "Where'd you get that from? It's not like his – yours has a wooden handle but… regardless, we don't need to get separated – it creates more work. And don't go leaving it behind, either – since you've got your own cane, I expect you'll put it to good use."

The vixen narrowed her gaze at Karla. "_You're_ getting wordy, too. All of this nonsense is getting to our heads." Carmelita turned to Cooper and said, "I know you want to help Conner but…"

Cooper placed a finger on his wife's lips. "The _real_ Moreau just teleported – for all we know, he could be back upstairs. Splitting up means we increase our chances of finding and stopping him. Conner fights well; I've seen him do it. Take your time." He turned towards the elevator as the car came back down the shaft. "Everyone else, you're all with me. Kalen, I may need your help so… Also, Winthrop, you can come with us. Let's go."

Carmelita turned to Karla and cracked her knuckles. "Same team, huh? This'll be different."

The trio of males boarded the elevator and it began to ascend in the shaft again. Karla turned back to Carmelita Cooper and shook her head slowly. "Yeah, no crap. This'll be weird. Why did you want to work with me? And was your husband _serious_ about Moreau having a clone? That guy looked pretty damn dead… I thought it was finally over."

The vixen shrugged. "Sly is good at taking down the kingpin bad guys; lord knows I always had to clean up after him in the past… but when you _really_ want a job done _right_… send in the women. That's why Israel's military is so efficient. And yeah, if he says he saw another Moreau alive… I believe him. Let's go. Which way was the dead clone of that dumb ape?"

Karla ran her fingers through her bangs then rubbed her face. She blinked and teleported herself and Carmelita several blocks. She took a deep breath and did it again. Moments later they arrived in a small stone building where the interior had rotted away to dust. A crumpled figure lay on the floor but a disturbingly gnarled tree trunk was growing out of the back of his body. It's sinewy thin branches were shiny and delicate looking like a gossamer spider's web. The young looking tree was thin but tall, having already broken through the ceiling. It protruded into the second floor but hadn't yet gone through the rooftop.

"This is new," said Karla Weasel. "And it's big already. Where do you suppose it came from?"

"I'm not sure I want to know," said Carmelita. "But you're right, this tree has to be recent. It's got his blood on its bark and there's no soil or water down here for it, let alone sunlight for photosynthesis."

Karla approached the base of the tree, consisting of the cloned body of Dr. Moreau. "This borders on disgusting but after the way he hit me… he deserves it."

A masculine voice joined the conversation. "It is, indeed, rather interesting yet disconcerting to see my younger-half dead on the ground." Both women turned around to face the true Alphonse Moreau. He shook his head and approached his dead clone, boldly pushing his way between the two women to cross the room. He knelt besides the body and shook his head. "So… _this_ is The Tree."

"Yes, it's obviously a tree," said Carmelita with a smirk. "So, are you going to give us any trouble?"

Moreau ignored her question. "Not _a_ tree… _The_ tree, Miss Fox. I'm afraid that you're looking at the Tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil. This is the tree that metaphysically displaced Original Sin into our souls if such a thing is possible. The balance of the universe was placed into _an object_. When Eve plucked the fruit from this tree and gave it to Adam, the first beings of the world took Original Sin into themselves. If I can find a way to place that part of our being back into this tree, as it grows to maturity, then we can become perfect creatures as we were born to be. Of course, for all we know, this is an alien plant from an alien world… All the religious connotations came afterwards… and this tree is simply derived from the seed that was inside of that block of amber… As you can see, it grows quickly without soil or water. It grew from his body and has already broken through a stone ceiling," he continued telling them, lifting a paw upwards. "Fascinating, isn't it?" He glanced back at the women and asked, "Who is the blonde?"

Carmelita balked, realizing that the doctor thought she was the enforcer. Everyone was right, he couldn't tell. The vixen shook her head slowly. "She's with me. Do I report this as a murder? Also, what's going on upstairs?"

"Somehow the evacuation protocol has been launched. I'm not quite sure who managed to pull it off – perhaps it was Bruce's daughter."

"Bruce?"

Moreau stood up and turned to the women. "You know, Conner Cooper's brother – Bruce O'Coop… he had a son also named 'Bruce'. That man had a daughter named Dawn who is quite the little busybody when it comes to computers. She's as tech-savvy as her grandfather, who pioneered data theft. When Conner was killed, Bruce changed his last name and disappeared to raise a small family."

Karla swallowed, seeing where this was going. She glanced at a rather pale-faced Carmelita. "So… Dawn would be the _second cousin_ of Sly Cooper's son, Conner?"

Moreau paused to think about it. "Hmm, Bruce would be Conner's great Uncle… and…" he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Quite so, they would be second cousins. Why? Is the boy here?"

"Yes," said Karla.

"Yes," replied Carmelita in unison.

A third voice joined the group. "Yes, I am. It's a shame my father killed your clone or _any_ part of you as it were. I really wanted that privilege for myself." Conner walked into the room confidently. "So how do you know about my Great Uncle Bruce? No one else seems to know anything about him."

"Boy, your uncle died a few years ago. The girl, Dawn, has most likely cried about the death of her father at some point. He was getting too close to my operation so I had the local mafia take him down. His father, Bruce Senior, is most likely dead. He smoked cigarettes while sitting in front of computers all day long. No one has heard from him in over a decade – he probably died from lung cancer. I really don't care either way." Alphonse rolled his eyes. "Carmelita, please do your job and do something about this Cooper male thief."

"Gladly," she said. She drew her favorite shock pistol, flipped the safety then shot Moreau. The mandrill groaned in pain, knocked off balance but due to the gene splicing from his past, he was able to shake it off quickly. The vixen smirked. "Surprise, ya old coot. I'm the _real_ Carmelita Cooper and _you_ are about to join your twin in the obituaries!"

"Clever," he said, watching as she charged her weapon again. A bolt of visible static electricity emanated from her weapon and, quite suddenly, everyone in the room was teleported elsewhere.

…They reappeared in the arena at the center of the city. Carmelita appeared in a small building alongside the 'field' but because the small dwelling was half-collapsed, she was trapped in it like a stone cell. Conner and Karla appeared several feet from the Senior Inspector, looking a little dazed. Moreau appeared at the far end of the arena. His dead clone and the entire tree appeared at the sidelines of the arena.

"Teleport me out of here," Carmelita shouted over to Karla.

"Don't," said Conner. "If that man hauls off and hits my mother the way he hit you earlier, I'd lose my mind, Karla. Just keep her in there for now." He cracked his knuckles. "I've been looking forward to finishing this whole thing _for real_. Now I'll finally get the chance to do it."

The Tree, off to the side, began to take root in the soft dirt covering the arena. Karla found herself glancing over at it momentarily then back at Conner and Moreau. "Your mother will have a fit if I don't bring her out of that cage to help you."

Conner turned around towards both women and shouted at the top of his lungs. "I SAID LEAVE HER IN THERE! This is _MY_ fight!" Everyone, including Moreau, froze to balk at him in shock. The young Cooper turned to Alphonse with a smirk. "So, old man, it comes down to this."

The doctor sighed. "Please don't tell me you've inherited the cheesy good-guy one-liners from your mother. I was really hoping you'd have been blessed with your father's wit. Sly never said much during a fight – that's the one thing I could respect about him."

Carmelita shot her gun against one of the stone slabs that kept her from getting out of the debris. "You'd better not touch my son!" she shouted while trying to kick at the stone pieces surrounding her.

Moreau shook his head. "Don't be an emotional fool, Carmelita," said the mandrill. "If you destabilize the rubble holding up that granite top, you'll crush yourself. I need another clone – you were my best worker."

"Oh I'm going to kill his ass," hissed the seething vixen.

Karla ran her fingers through her hair and said, "Conner, your mother and I had intended to fight this boob together. You're killing our 'girls vs. boys' motif here."

He cut his gaze towards her but kept his head forward. "Don't you let her out of there. Her clone is dead. I need her alive." He gave his cane a slow twirl. "If I die, she'll not only avenge me but she's important because she's the one who would carry on the Cooper line."

"I…" Karla sighed. "It's possible that your uncle already…"

"Just stay back," said Conner. "He caught you off guard last time. Protect mom just incase there's a collapse. Keep an eye on her. Leave this guy to _me_."

Alphonse quirked a brow. "Do you seriously think you can take me on, young man? I applaud your confidence but your ignorance is equally appalling."

"Blah, blah, blah. I know your story – I know how it was _you_ that ordered Clockwerk to come to my grandfather's house. You were looking for _this_," he said, holding up the family heirloom. "You wanted to get into the vault to become wealthy but what you _really_ wanted was artifacts that would help you get _here_ and control this place. Well… here you are. And the funny thing is… I'm not even here to stop you from your so-called destiny. I could care _less_ if you were to stay down here _forever_."

"Then why, boy, are you getting in my way?"

"I want _vengeance_ for what you've done to my family. You Benedict Arnold sonuvabitch, you murdered your own teammate."

Alphonse lifted his hands. "Before I kill you, don't you want to know the truth? Conner betrayed _me_."

The young half-breed raccoon scoffed in disgust. "I'm sure you believe that the way insane people believe they're perfectly normal."

Moreau rolled his eyes. "Conner, you look so much like your father and grandfather, it's hard to believe your mother is a vixen." He folded his arms, using the opportunity to buy time for his archeological guard team to arrive. "It turns out that Conner was far more clever than I'd given him credit for. I'd helped him to steal two artifacts; I _always knew_ he had a third – the pendant that your father melted down into a wedding band for your mother." He glanced up at Carmelita then back at Conner. "Your grandfather and his friend, McSweeny, learned early on that I intended to find all the artifacts. Then, surprisingly, they figured out what the artifacts were for. I can only assume that someone intelligence and well educated must have been feeding them information. I've recently discovered it was some old man who ran with the son of Tennessee Kid Cooper. But I digress…

"Cooper decides, one day, that the gang should take a hiatus so he can raise a family. I asked for my cut and, because he knew I wanted those artifacts, he denied me. I was furious. Conner disappears and begins raising his family. It only took a few years before I was able to track him down. When I did, I tracked down the supernatural inner circle, knowing they already had a vested interest.

"I was able to get into contact with Clockwerk and sent him in to find the cane for me. He brought me back the book and proof that your grandfather was now dead. McSweeny came to realize that I mean business. To protect himself, he turned himself in and pled guilty for some of the biggest crimes in modern history, thus securing him in a maximum-security institution. He felt safe from me and I was pleased that he was now out of my way. However, I never truly believed that Clockwerk successfully killed your grandfather. I assumed the slick raccoon got away and, so, when your father approached me a decade later, I'd mistaken him for Conner.

"I was able to trick your mother and father into thinking that I was killed in a collapse – I waited until they left then I stole all the artifacts I needed but I couldn't find the pendant that eventually became your mother's ring. Assuming it must have been on Sly or Carmelita, I went back to the supernatural illuminati and gave them disinformation. They went after your mother and father and I waited in the rafters like a vulture. Somehow, your parents survived and the supernatural team assembled to complete the objective wound up dead."

Karla narrowed her gaze. "So… _that's_ how it happened. You _knew_ that Steven wanted those pieces and you promised him that you could deliver them in return for him helping to make you stronger and to slow your aging. Then you betrayed him, too, because you only wanted those pieces for yourself."

Moreau snapped his fingers and pointed at Karla. "_Now_ I know where I recognize you from, my dear! You're one of Steven's re-creations!" He paused then tilted his head. "You were supposed to be far more loyal to him – you turned out to be a pest." The mandrill's eyes cut back to Conner. "You brought the missing staff. I'm not sure how you obtained it from Ethiopia but I'm impressed. Your grandfather couldn't even manage to steal it. He paved the way for a helper to get in. That man's eyes melted and he died minutes after opening the Ark. We cut our losses and left that artifact alone."

Conner gave his cane a slow twirl. "Yeah, I got the staff of Moses, all right. It was easy, too. I got it myself. No melted eyes, no death. I used it to find _you_. I promised myself I'd return it, though. So tough luck, old man. You're not getting it. He saw that Karla was seething with anger but he stepped in front of her, saying, "Having the power of Atlantis requires maturity above and beyond our mortal comprehension. This city is best left where it is… below ground forever. And you can have it but you'll never control it."

"That's where you're wrong, boy. I'm missing her ring and your other staff. Using them together is how one needs to remove the main energy crystal from the center of this city. I will have it and _you_ will die today. Then your parents and Bruce's daughter and all your friends."

Conner gritted his teeth. "Bring it on."

Moreau snirtled in a sly way, as if hiding laughter into his right sleeve. For his advanced age, Conner found his reaction almost childish in a way. "Again, boy, with the silly 'good guy' one liners. You're a 'momma's boy' if I've ever seen one."

Carmelita shouted from her stone cage. "I'll kill you for mocking him, I'll kill you for being a murderer. I'll kill you for breaking the law and getting so many people killed. There's no jail good enough for you!"

The teenager glanced over his shoulder then back towards Moreau. "Shut the eff up and let's fight already." He brought his cane to the ready after an impressive twirl off his right knuckles, behind his back and into his left paw. "You've wasted a good part of my later childhood. I have a lot of catching up to do, old man, so I'll make this quick so I can go home and put my feet up. How's that sound?"

With a shrug, Moreau reached behind his back and mashed a button on a controller unit. "I was really hoping my team would have arrived by now. I'm not quite sure where they're hiding." Little did he know that Sly and Kalen dispatched his guard unit only a little while ago. The mandrill kept his hands behind his back, mashing down on the button. "It seems they're unable to come to my aid, so I'll have to fall back on plan B."

Conner approached in a menacing way. "How, fight your _own_ fight? Y'know, I whipped the crap out of your clone. Or maybe _you're_ the clone. Who knows; who cares? I'm just glad I get to do it again. My father put the finishing touches on the other one. It's going to feel good to have the opportunity to do it again, _myself_."

"Your father isn't here to protect you this time. And my crazy clone was driven mad by an overload of knowledge in his mind from the library. You see, it automatically places knowledge into your head at a rate that your brain cannot process information. He tried it on one of the supernatural beings we'd captured. He could handle it, so my clone tried it."

"Yeah, he was crazy all right," said Conner, moving into a position to start strafing as if they were about to have a brawl. They began circling one another with a calculated pace. "He said something about putting an energy crystal into a siege engine. He wanted to make this entire city some sort of weapon."

Moreau grimaced. "Indeed, he is foolish. _Was_ foolish. He studied everything from coprolite found within this city all the way to how the city itself could be used to attack – it seems that it can attack other continents as well as objects in orbit above us. The ultimate weapon's design was for a purpose unknown to anyone, even Steven. It is, however, the reason Atlantis sunk. It was the capital of the American continent. It broke off from the east coast and sank into the ocean, leaving the population in the dark. Without technology and unlimited energy, their progeny went back to the metaphorical dark ages, doing everything by hand. This city is the citadel of the enlightened. It proves that _people_ were advanced and even space faring about a hundred thousand years before recorded history."

Conner continued the sidestepping as the two opponents sized one another up. "Yeah, but metal turns to rust, roads turn to dust and stone erodes. So there's no way to prove it. This place was preserved by luck but it really just needs to be forgotten because 'ultimate weapons' don't deserve to be in the hands of people like _you_."

Karla, frustrated, said, "Are you two waiting for me to ring a bell? Let's get this over with all ready!"

Cooper smirked. "She's right. You've talked enough. Thanks for the insight – I've always had a morbid curiosity about the man who ruined my father's childhood as well as _my_ childhood. Let's do this like men. One on one. No distractions and no cheating."

Moreau's thumb slid along the control box. He pressed two buttons at once then casually put the controller back into his back pocket. "As you wish, my boy. You know, you're smarter than your father. Academically speaking, you're able to hold a conversation with _me_. I like an opponent who can match wits. It would be an honor to kill you but I don't believe in honor so… I'll simply kill you and take control of the city's siege engine. Then I'll kill your friends and family and end your pathetic bloodline. There will be no more Coopers and no more family pride. There will be no more…"

"JUST FIGHT!" Karla shouted.

Conner dashed forward, snagging his cane into Moreau's clothing. He ran up the mandrill's stocky chest, performed a flip with his feet outwards in a balanced stance then swung the cane like an axe. Surprisingly, he managed to lift the large man and slam him back down into the arena's dusty field. The centuries-old dirt swelled up around the doctor, masking where he'd landed.

Alphonse dashed forward from the cloud with his arms outwards. The clothesline maneuver brought Conner to the ground. The raccoon found himself hit so hard that his cane was dropped. Moreau turned and kicked it with tremendous force. "Listen, boy… no teenage punk will be getting between _me_ and my _destiny_ in this place."

Conner vaulted up to his feet, leapt over Moreau and grasped onto one of the hanging air tubes with a light on the bottom. He swung around, held his paw out then leapt forward. He performed a tight somersault and, at the same time, his cane jumped from the ground and magnetically returned to his palm. As Cooper came out of the flip, he brought the cane down upon the doctor's head, sending the mandrill back to the dust. Conner dropped to his feet with his left paw on the ground between his ankles in a crouch. "Haven't you heard? You're an asshole and I'm the good guy."

Moreau got to one knee and brought a hand to the back of his head. "You're a fool for hitting me then watching to see what happens next. You should have kept hitting me to keep me down." He cracked his knuckles then got back to his feet. "So far, you're pretty good for a kid. Let's raise the bar, shall we?"

"Fine." He cut his gaze towards Karla. "Both you and mom had better stay out of this. I mean it."

"I should have gone with Winthrop – at least _then_ I'd be part of the action." A smirk crossed her maw. "I wonder what he's up to right now, anyhow."

* * *

X

**"Go, go, go!"** Winthrop fired off two more shots then dove behind an electric automobile. A volley of rounds penetrated the plastic quarter panel, thumping against the metallic frame beneath. He glanced up at Sly, watching as the raccoon managed to get Bentley across the street. The two joined up with Jing King, a pale and haggard looking Artimus Crowell and a few others. Winthrop turned his attention back to the jackal adjacent to him. "Guess the bird guy is going to live after all. You ready, Kalen?"

"Do you remember the plan?"

Winthrop nodded. "Yeah, yeah – Sly Cooper and I head down to the utility shed and sabotage the elevator leading into Atlantis so that when the girls come back, we can destroy it by remote. Then we join you guys in the penthouse. Make sure you keep everyone safe, Kalen. You're bulletproof and they're not."

"I'm not bulletproof – although I've just fed recently so I should be able to _appear_ bulletproof." He nodded then hurried out from behind the car and across the street. He drew fire from the hidden enemies, allowing Sly Cooper to run back across and join the half-weasel behind the car.

Sly dove behind the vehicle and pressed his back up against the door. "Man, the other side of this thing is riddled with holes. So… how's it going?"

"I'm good, you?"

"I wish I was down there with my wife right now. I'm starting to think that Moreau might actually be down there after all."

"Where's Conner?"

Sly deadpanned. "Where do you think? He's down there, too. I'm not to keen on that. But at least Carmelita is down there. And we all know that she can handle herself. She handles her business darn well."

"I've lost respect for her, no offense. Besides, Karla is absolutely beautiful and has _way_ bigger tits."

Cooper's brows furrowed. "Is that important? Regardless of judging a woman by her cup size, Carmelita has some impressive bowling balls packed away in that sports bra."

Winthrop peered up over the trunk and fired two shots to draw out the enemy fire in hopes to discover their location. "Yeah? Maybe _duckpin_ bowling balls. Karla's are more like _ten pounders_."

The raccoon snorted. "She's packing D – cup, you know. You wouldn't know it because of the sports bra. She's packing _globes_, buddy. Now watch out before you get yourself shot."

Winthrop sunk down as two rounds struck the hood and bumper. He peered back up and fired off two more shots. "Ooo, D – Cups. Ya' wanna know Karla's '_cup_' size? I'll tell you – she's 38 _Holy Grail._ Trust me, you can't beat a woman who has a twenty-eight inch waist and natural 'F' tits. Your chick might have _globes_, but my girl's headlights might as well be _suns_. They're the biggest natural tits in _this_ solar system."

Again, Sly deadpanned. "Why are we comparing our wives chest size, anyhow?"

"I don't know," said Winthrop, easing off another round at a forty-five degree angle. "The guns and explosions must be affecting our testosterone. Besides, my wife has supernatural powers. You can't hate on that."

Sly glanced up at the rearview mirror. He used a finger and pushed on it so that it was angled inwards, allowing him to see through the rear windshield. "My wife kicked your wife's ass _several_ times. She did it _without_ super powers." He sighed then chuckled. "Why are we doing this? The whole '_my wife can beat up your wife_' argument should be left on the playground with the rest of the third graders. Do you have an angle on our shooters?"

"They're in the dark somewhere at the top of the block; they're using flash suppression."

"We're probably in the dark, too. What I mean is," Sly paused, rolling his paw outwards as if looking for the right wording. He then said, "A block away at sunrise… this is still one of the darkest areas of the city at this hour. I'm thinking they are probably using night vision or something."

Winthrop froze. He slowly turned his gaze back towards Sly with a slight smile. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Sly wrapped his knuckles against the side of the car. "It's electric. Boogie woogie, woogie. There's no gas in this thing. How do you wanna do it?"

"Damn, you're right. I really want to blow it up, though. That'd create the perfect lens flare. Okay, super smart thief… do _you_ have any ideas?"

Sly rubbed his chin for a moment then asked. "You know their approximate location?"

"Cooper, I know what building they're in, I just don't know what _window_ they're in. But I have it narrowed down to somewhere between floor five and nine."

"Okay, get ready to run towards the subway opening when I say." Sly picked the car's lock with unnatural grace, opened the door then popped the hood. He hotwired the electric car impressively faster than his son's team managed to do back in Florida just three years ago. Once it was running, Sly crawled around to the front, opened the hood for protection then stood up. He used his cane to break the mounting bracket for both headlights then he lifted them out and positioned them on the quarter panel. "Which building?"

Winthrop pointed. "That one, there."

Sly pointed both headlights towards the correct building, angled towards the middle section. He spliced the wires then ripped another wire from a component that looked unimportant. Taking the utmost care, he connected the new wire to what appeared obvious as the accelerator.

Cooper crawled back around to the driver-side door and said, "Get ready… get set…" He cleared his throat then reached into the vehicle. He turned on the 'high beams' then used part of the carpet mat to forcibly pin the accelerator pedal to the floor, causing the electric engine to rev up while still in 'park.'

Because of the spliced wire being hooked to the accelerator, the high beam lights grew even brighter in intensity. They acted as flood lamps to the building across the way, not only blinding the snipers' night vision, but the illumination allowed Winthrop to see heads in windows. "GO, Winthrop!" The two ran down the sidewalk. Gunshots rang out but the rounds where hitting the pavement several yards behind the two. They hopped the rail and dropped to the concrete steps that led down into the subway entrance.

Sly took the lead with Winthrop directly behind him. They hurried through the tiled area, vaulted over the turnstile and rushed down to the mezzanine above the train loading area. Sly rushed the banister rail, put his foot up on it and performed a double-rotation somersault. He hit the floor near the train tracks and executed a fancy roll then came to his feet as though he'd practiced it a hundred times.

Winthrop skidded to a halt at the banister rail and watched then he eased up onto it, swung his legs over and carefully eased forward. The weasel-otter half-breed dropped to his feet with a grunt then stood up and shook his left leg with a wince. "Agh… Pins and needles."

"Shake it off, man. Let's go!" Sly rushed the other man out onto the rails then up the line and into the dimly illuminated tunnel. "Carmelita said that it's just a little ways down this tunnel. There should be a metal door along the side just up ahead." He drew in a deep breath then continued to speak while running. "You'll use your gun on the handle or hinges then there will be a catwalk." He took another deep breath, then added, "The utility room is some sort of city maintenance area. Dawn and Bentley claim it connects to the substation that converts the grid from the main power. If we blow it up it will shut down the elevator and the air tubes that power Lower Atlantis." The raccoon panted as they ran.

"There's the door!" exclaimed Winthrop. "The explosives are in your pack?"

"Of course! The remote control is designed to keep a wireless connection with the detonator," explained Sly between breathing. "Once it gets far away from the bomb, the thing blows sky high. I'll leave the remote with the elevator with a remote. That way when they get the hell out of there, they see it and grab it and leave with it. I don't want it to blow up just because _we_ got a head start on leaving this place."

Winthrop came to a halt, paws on the wall by the door to catch his breath. He aimed his gun on the handle but panted for a moment then, between hard breaths, said, "What if Moreau comes up, not them?"

"Then they didn't make it. They'll fight to the death to make sure he won't leave that damn place." Sly took a deep breath to relax his body, obviously in better physical shape than Winthrop. "Moreau won't set off the bomb so if he makes it and they don't… then in the unlikely chance they're still alive down there… we won't have killed them by accident. At that point, he'll be _here_ and will be at _our mercy_."

"Fair enough." Winthrop put two rounds into the door. The gun bucked in his palm with a loud click. The door swung ajar with ease. "You're the big hero, Sly. So, by all means, after _you_."

Cooper twirled his new cane then eased the door open and walked in first. Without warning the dome began shaking again. He braced himself as he moved into the corrugated steel hallway. "Dammit, not again."

* * *

X

_Meanwhile…_

**Karla groaned, throwing her paws up in disgust**. "Are you _serious_?" she exclaimed in frustration. An enormous creature entered the arena. It resembled a ten-foot tall spider with pythons for legs. It was able to slither along the bellies of each leg, only occasionally lifting one at a time. Mounted atop the spider's body was the Contessa, aged about twenty-five years older than her last public appearance. Karla Weasel teleported back to Carmelita's half-collapsed stone prison.

The senior inspector had her teeth bared and the fur on the back of her neck stood up. Her tail was thick and fluffy, her ears were laid back and she looked angry. "I cannot believe he's in league with _that_ _bitch_."

"Who is she?"

Carmelita, seething, said, "Supposedly she became a real-estate broker to make money after doing hard time in jail."

Karla furrowed her brows for a moment then sighed with a shake of her head. "You hate her more than you hate _me_? I'm _jealous_. Okay, so snakey-spider chick is someone with whom you've got history – I understand… it's okay. And a _real-estate_ broker? Atlantis is probably one _pricey_ piece of land right now."

"Stop joking and get me out of here so I can stop that _freak_ before she goes after my son!"

Karla glanced over her shoulder, seeing Moreau looking quite pleased by the Contessa's appearance. "Fine, but let Conner have his way with that old man. It would really mean a _lot_ to him."

Carmelita glared at the felox. "Are you _serious_? Get me the hell out of this damned rubble pile. And the 'snakey' thing is a _new_ addition to her 'look.' She's taller than I remember, too. Now get me _out_."

With an audible, melodramatic sigh, Karla waved a paw. Her palm brightened with a hint of pink. Carmelita found herself teleported out of the rubble. She broke into a hard sprint across the arena, headed to intercept the Contessa without another word.

The snake-legged spider took a swipe at Conner who leapt over her first swing only to knock Moreau down again with an electrically charged cane. Contessa looked up, seeing Carmelita at a full run. "Oh, you've _got to be kidding_," she said in an accent. "You've called me here to help when your lead enforcer is already on the scene?" Contessa raised her voice in a nasty, chiding way. "Sorry, Fox, but I've got this fight under hand. Just go back upstairs and write some _parking tickets_."

"No, you idiot," said Moreau. "That's the _real_ Carmelita Fox."

"The _real_…? She's…?" Contessa looked up again just in time to receive a jump kick to the torso. The genetically-altered super spider was thrown back with a cry of surprise only to have Carmelita Cooper straddle her chest, delivering round after round of intense punches to the face.

Contessa brought one of her coiled python legs up and wrapped it around Carmelita's torso, lifting the vixen into the air with a grunt of dissatisfaction. The vulpine cop kicked her legs, unable to move.

"LET GO OF MY MOTHER!" shouted Conner. He turned away from Moreau and rapidly charged his cane then he struck the Contessa. The release of electricity shocked the newly created 'arach-tile' into releasing Carmelita. The vixen was also shocked but, despite being dazed, she managed to roll away from Contessa's immediate reach.

Contessa used another python leg to pull the cane out of Conner's grip with yet another to grab him around the neck. She lifted him into the air, causing the fox-coon to reach for the leg around his throat.

Karla groaned with a roll of her eyes. "Great, just great." She teleported Moreau off the battlefield and placed him into the collapsed stone area where Carmelita had been earlier. Once he appeared in the makeshift prison, she said, "Stay right there and behave or I'll teleport you outside of this city. Trust me, you don't want to be _in_ the planet's mantle. I won't think twice to kill you instantly, so behave."

Moreau grasped at a stone pillar that acted as a cell bar. "If you had that ability, you'd have already done that to both me_ and_ my assistant. It's beyond your immediate range."

Karla narrowed her gaze. "Putting you six feet into the ground isn't beyond my range, now shut up." She blinked from existence then appeared near Conner and Carmelita as they struggled with the hybrid creature. The arachnid-reptile snagged both Conner and Carmelita together. Karla dodged one of the scaled appendages then lifted her paws and focused on teleporting The Contessa without her victims. Nothing happened. Karla blinked and tried it again, paws outstretched. "What the hell?"

Contessa looked up with a brilliant smile. "What are you trying to do, little girl?"

"What the hell? Why can't I teleport you?" she growled.

The Contessa appeared delighted. "OH, my darling, you can _teleport_ things? Well, you cannot teleport _me_. My genetic engineering process isn't fully complete. Moreau didn't want me to use the city's teleportation pads because it would contaminate my body on the genetic level; it's too soon after the gene splicing to use those pads. So," she used yet another snake-like leg to reach up. She gave her golden pendant a gentle tap. "See this? It's Atlantian technology and it's designed to make it so that I can't be teleported. By the floor pads in this city, of course, but it appears that it works on _your_ abilities, too! Too bad; you cannot place-shift my body!" She swung that scaled arm outwards, striking Karla. The felox was thrown clear across the arena.

Karla rolled four times then stopped face down in the dust. She grunted softly then got back up. "An _anti-teleportation_ pendant? Atlantis had that kind of technology?" She rubbed her face then got back to her feet. "Now things are getting interesting." Karla looked up again, seeing Conner struggle from the scaly arm around his throat.

Carmelita, also captured by the waist, struggled to get free. Another sigh passed Karl's lips. She shook her head slowly then said, "I'll be _damned_ if I get myself stuck with _that_ thing." She dusted herself off then readjusted the lay of her shirt. "Okay, no more messing around."

Contessa smirked, approaching the felox rapidly. She kept Carmelita and Conner held aloft with ease. "My dear, back home, we had a saying. Where the rest of the world squish their enemies like bugs, in Mother Russia, the bugs squish _you_." She reached for Karla but the felox teleported beyond arms reach. Just then, the underground city began to shake.

Karla braced herself, glancing around the area. In the distance she spied the elevator coming down the shaft. It was brightly illuminated and attention grabbing. The world continued to shake. She turned around just in time to meet the gaze of the Contessa. The strangest sensation came over her in that moment and the rest of the world faded away to a colorful euphoria.

"Yes, child, that's it… look into my eyes and be in your happy place." The arach-tile smiled brilliantly. Her tone was so inviting that Karla began to shuffle towards it. Once she was close enough, Contessa spit into her face. The venomous serpent saliva caused Karla to scream.

The felox threw her paws up over her face and doubled over. She screamed a string of curse words and hurried away, stumbling and shuffling through the dirt. Conner shouted for his friend; Contessa pulled his body inwards until his flesh and fur brushed against Contessa's torso. Small hairs on her outer frame caused intense irritation. He recoiled in discomfort, coughing from respiratory irritation. Contessa squeezed tighter on his throat then lifted him high like a trophy. She glanced over at Carmelita with a victorious grin. "You see, my dear? I don't need the Clockwerk eye to have my fun with you three. Oh, how I missed you my dear Inspector."

Carmelita balled her fists up and struck the scaled flesh coiled around her waist. She continued to strike over and over but it had no effect. She kicked her legs, struggling but it had no effect. "I will _bleed you dry_," she snarled in response. "You _will_ die for touching my son. So help me, if I have to dissect you with my _fingernails_ I will… I _will_ make you pay dearly." The vixen shut her eyes tightly, teeth gnashing together in anger.

"Ooo," said Contessa with a chuckle. "Look, I'm shaking in my boots… oh, wait! I don't need boots! I'm probably _not_ shaking either! Now, my vexed little vixen, open your eyes and look into mine."

"Never! Drop dead, you hag!" cried Carmelita. "And now that you've blinded Karla, you'll _never_ get Moreau out of that debris pile. I bet you'd just leave him in there anyhow. That's the kind of person you are."

Contessa faked emotional hurt. "No, oh no, you've got me all wrong." Her tone changed, becoming more _matter of fact_. "Seriously, Carmelita, I'm a strong minded person. But I have the utmost respect for people who have stronger minds than my own. Moreau is actually quite a worthy ally. Actually, I _would_ save him. No, I don't need teleportation to get him out of there… I would simply need a trained demolition crew to help rescue him without causing it to cave in."

Between coughing, Conner said, "Don't you feel the whole damn place quaking around us? It's going to cave in soon and you can't save him without Karla… you've just screwed up."

"Hush, you." She lifted him high then slammed him into the dust.

"CONNER!" Carmelita opened her eyes and drove her fangs into Contessa's reptilian leg. The hybrid arach-tile winced but didn't release either of them.

"Moreau has spliced my genes with more than just that of a python or tarantula for my legs and body hairs, my dear girl. I spit like a cobra, my leg would grow back like the tail of a lizard…"

"You cold hearted bitch," said the Inspector, pulling her teeth from the leg. "I'll gnaw them all off then beat your head in before they can grow back. We'll put 'stumpy' on your epitaph! Don't worry, we'll burry you right next to Byron"

Contessa sighed. "Well, you did your homework. You remember the name of the Count, my husband. What can I say, though? He died. I've been a widow my entire life," she said, bringing a clawed hand to her chest to motion to the red hour-glass marking on her torso. "See?"

Carmelita Cooper screamed in frustration and wiggled wildly with a fresh jolt of adrenaline, frustration and anger. "He's WAITING FOR YOU on the other side! Get ready to apologize to him in person because I'm going to RIP YOUR HEAD OFF! And that will NOT grow back!"

"Stop shouting," said Contessa with a roll of her eyes. "Just look at me and shut up."

"NEVER!"

"Then _die_," she said back, squeezing the vixen tightly at the gut.

"Never!" Carmelita repeated.

Again, the arach-tile sighed. "Gee, didn't see _that_ response coming. You're so original."

Conner held his hand out and the cane forced its way back to his grip. He charged it with all the emotional turbulence he'd bottled up since having woken up. He forced the hook into her scaled appendage. He felt sweet relief in that the constriction around his neck loosened, as well as the grip around his mother's waist. "Let her go!"

"Only if she dies first," said Contessa. "It's time to have some fun." She brought Conner and Carmelita together, slamming them into one another. Blood ran down two of her legs from where Conner had hooked her and Carmelita had bit her.

Karla continued to rub her eyes until sight returned just enough for everything to appear blurry. Something struck her and sent the woman head over heels. She rolled to a stop not far from where Moreau was still trapped. She heard his chiding words as if they were practically spoken into her ear. "Not so tough _now_ are you? Surprise… I decided it was time to make my next monster have a calculating mind so that people like _you_ wouldn't be able to best them. Your power not working on her was merely icing on the cake."

Karla grunted in an attempt to sit up. She opened her eyes and was able to see out of her left eye but her right one was still blurry from the saliva. She eased to an elbow. Her arm muscles spasmed, causing her to shake as she sat up. Her ears perked, hearing rapid footsteps approaching.

Something slid through the dirt coming to a stop nearby. "Oh my _God_ are you okay, Karla?" the voice belonged to Dawn. "You look worse than when you were nicked by that bullet."

"D…Dawn, she has Conner and Carmelita. I can't teleport her. She blinded me somehow by spitting in my face." Karla brought her paw back to her left eye, trying to flush out the serpent spit.

Dawn snatched Karla's muzzle and tilted her head up then reached into her pocket and pulled a bottle of water. "It's not Visine and it's not distilled water but… hold still." She poured the contents of her drinking water down over Karla's face while using her other paw to keep the woman's head still. "Keep your eyes open, girl."

"Ngh, I'm trying – it stings." Her lower lip quivered and she balled her paws into fists but did her best to keep her eyes open. She pushed her foot through the dirt, retracted it then repeated the motion, leaving a rut in the ground with her heel. "It stings," she repeated softly.

Dawn lifted the bottle upwards and put the cap back on it. "Try to blink." She looked back up, watching the strange monster in the distance with Conner and Carmelita. She sighed and, under her breath, said, "Hang in there, you two." Dawn lowered her gaze back to Karla. "Well?"

Karla started to bring her paws to her eyes to dry them but Dawn snatched her wrists. "You've got that gook on your hands – don't touch your eyes." Frustrated by Dawn's words, Karla leaned forward and rubbed her face against Dawn's leg.

The rumbling world around them, which had tapered off to being nearly forgotten in the last few minutes, now came back full force. Moreau groaned. "Get me out of here before I'm crushed?"

The felox grit her teeth in absolute disgust. She teleported tall rocks into the makeshift cell with him. "There. Now if it collapses, you won't be crushed. I _promised_ Conner that he could have that honor." She glanced back at Dawn then blinked. "Is that…?"

Dawn shouldered the Carl G rocket launcher with a grin. "Yeah, it is. I brought it. Let's finish this."

Giddy as a school girl, Karla teleported them half-way across the battlefield until they were behind Contessa and her victims. "Okay, girl. This is the plan… I'll teleport Conner and Carmelita to safety. You hit the bitch in the back with the rocket. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, give me a second to get it ready." She opened the metallic tube and got the last round out of the bag. "You've gotta time this perfectly, though."

"You know I will. Hurry, now."

"I am."

While the two were behind Contessa, getting ready, Conner pulled his cane back into his hand by magnetic attraction then he drove the end into Contessa's torso and, holding it by the hook, he charged it.

This time, Contessa screamed in rage and agony. She lifted Carmelita up then slammed the vixen back against the ground. She reached for the hook despite the strange burning sensation that came with touching it. Her other arm tightened on Conner's neck, threatening to snap it. "You will _pay_ for your insolence, boy! I'm going to smother the life from your body. And, just when you finally go limp, I'll keep squeezing until your head pops from your shoulders! You will DIE for that!"

"Conner!" Carmelita cried weakly, pinned to the dirt. "I love you, Conner! Don't give up!" Her ears perked, hearing her son gurgle. Tears filled the vixen's eyes, watching her son in horror. "Please, Contessa, let him go! I'll do anything you want. I'll take the fall at Interpol, I'll take his place – please, don't kill him. Take me instead. Please don't kill…" She found herself lifted rapidly then slammed back into the dirt.

The vixen groaned, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness. Contessa jerked the cane from her gut. Blood poured out, leaving a pool on the ground. "You'll _both_ die. You'll _both_ be together _very_ soon." She used the cane to strike Carmelita on the hip then she threw it behind herself. It twirled twice then struck the dirt.

"I'm sorry mom," Conner whispered. His near-strangled words went unanswered by his mother. "I won't give up," he mouthed, unable to force air out anymore. His fists tightened in an attempt to electrocute the monster but due to a lack of oxygen, he couldn't summon the body strength to do it. His joints and muscles ached profusely.

A voice came from behind. "NOW!" Contessa started to turn around. Her eyes widened, seeing a bright flash. Her ears ached, hearing a loud sound. A rocket propelled grenade rushed towards her. Contessa brought both Carmelita and Conner's bodies up defensively with the intent of using them as body shields.

Suddenly their bodies disappeared from her grip, teleported clear across the arena. The RPG round rushed forward. Her quick, calculating mind raced. Contessa wrapped a single arm around the round, holding it as tightly as she could manage. The gushing flame that came from the backside of the round was hot enough to melt the scaly skin on contact but she held on to keep it from hitting her. She tried to turn it over to redirect it towards Dawn and Karla.

Conner sat up on the ground, took a deep, satisfying breath of air then reached for his cane. It rushed to his paw then he threw it, using a reverse effect of his magnetic attraction. He managed to guide it in a controlled throw. The electric-glowing oricalcum rod struck the round, causing it to detonate right in the Contessa's face. It exploded with a thunderous crack, blowing her into pieces throughout the arena.

Conner watched a glint of light high above. His cane hurdled through the air and fell into the soft dirt twenty-five feet away. It stood up for a moment like a dart in a dartboard. After a few seconds it fell over from the weight of the hook on the end and came to lay motionless on its side.

He rushed towards it, paw extended. The cane rushed up and returned to his palm. He hurtled over the gooey remains of the hybrid creature then rushed towards his mother. Conner dropped to his knees, skidding to a halt adjacent to her. "Mom, are you okay?"

Carmelita sat up gingerly and brought a paw to her gut. She lifted her shirt a bit and spread the fur apart with her fingers. A deep bruise was all the way around her waist. "I think she broke a rib," murmured the vixen. "What happened?"

Conner glanced around. His eyes landed on Dawn and Karla. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his muzzle. "My team… my _friends_ happened." He knelt down and put his head beneath Carmelita's left arm. After helping his mother to her feet he said, "Moreau is next. And he belongs to _me_. When I'm done with him, he's going to match his clone over there."

"You have another fast-growing tree?" asked Carmelita with a very slight smirk on her maw. "Leave him down here. He can't go anywhere. Don't lower yourself to his level and kill him when he's already…"

"If I leave him down here, he'll starve or find a way to teleport out of this place before the air runs out. If not, he'll suffocate. If you ask me, putting him out of his misery would be the humane thing to do."

"Conner, she wanted to weaken us and she did. You're in no shape to tangle with that man, now."

He grit his teeth in frustration. "I'll be damned if I'm not going to fight him. I found out that he's had it out for the Coopers all along and that he betrayed them. I need to kill him." The domed city's shaking intensified. The dust all around them began to levitate as if taking on the properties of fog. Something shiny caught his attention. The shimmer of sparks on the side of the elevator shaft could be seen from where he stood. "Dammit."

Carmelita reached up and put a paw on his face. "Conner, if you stay and fight, you'll be trapped down here with him. We have to leave before that makeshift elevator shaft collapsed. It wont' last much longer under this kind of stress."

Conner looked back towards where Moreau was half-buried in stone fifty feet away. He glared in anger. "I have to finish this. He might get away."

"Loosing you isn't worth it," said Carmelita, almost in a begging voice. "We have to go. I hate him, too, baby boy, but trust me when I tell you that killing him will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. I know you've accidentally killed people before. You did it trying to save your life to find me and your father… that's not murder. But if you look into his eyes then take his life… one on one, that isn't war… that is murder. I raised you better than that. You're _not_ him. He's capable of killing another being in such a personal way… you aren't."

Tears filled Conner's eyes. They slipped down his soot-covered cheeks, absorbed into the dirty fur. "Fine." He glanced over his shoulder and shouted, "Karla! Get Moreau out of there!"

"Conner _please_," Carmelita begged. "Think about what you're doing."

"I have." He gave his cane a slow twirl then began to charge it until the hooked tip glowed.

With a sigh of reluctance, Karla appeared with Dawn at Conner's side. She finished the breathy sigh upon her return to the physical realm adjacent to the fox-coon. "What are you doing, kiddo? We need to leave."

Carmelita nodded emphatically. "For once I agree with her! We have to leave now, Conner!"

"You three hurry to the elevator. I'll be there in a minute, I _promise_. But first, get Moreau out of the rubble."

"Conner…"

"Karla… please, do it. I can't leave him trapped in there. There's no honor in that. Get him out then leave. I'll be there in a moment."

Dawn hugged Conner who, in turned, kissed her. Cooper kept his lips to her for a moment then broke the kiss and said, "I don't care _who_ your father is… _I love you_. And that's all that matters. Now get them out of here the way you came. Hurry."

"I will," she said in an almost shy voice. Dawn turned to Karla and Carmelita. "Come on, ladies. The boys need boy time." She began to push. Karla waved her right paw upwards in a dismissing fashion. Moreau appeared on his belly not too far from his dead clone with the enormous tree sticking up out of his back. It was now four stories in height and blossoms were starting to bud on the tips of its branches. Dawn led Karla and Carmelita away.

Once they were out of eyesight, he turned back to Moreau and hoisted the doctor up by the collar. "Oh, you are in _so_ much trouble old man."

Moreau suddenly stood up and grabbed Conner by the throat. "You were foolish to play that card, boy. I've just lost respect for you and now you'll _die_ down here."

Conner brought his cane down, striking the doctor in his knee. The bone shattered causing Moreau to drop to the dirt in agony. The raccoon's teeth ground together. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Like I _said_, Alphonse… you are in _so_ much trouble." He narrowed his gaze dangerously. "You killed my grandfather for _this_." He lifted the cane. It sparkled and shimmered from the electricity that was stored in it. "This cane was inside of me for a while. It was apart of me and that's how it got its electric properties. You wanted it so bad that you _murdered_ for it using Clockwerk as an extension of your hand. If you want it so badly…"

Moreau sat up, hands firmly planted on the ground to steady himself from the shaking city. "I would have done it again, a thousand times over."

"Well… if you want it _that_ badly… by all means… you can _have it_." Conner lifted the cane high above his head then drove it straight through Moreau's appendix and into the ground, all the way down to the handle, six feet into the dirt. He gave the hook a hard twist to keep it lodged in the dirt.

Moreau grabbed it by the hook to pull it up but the electricity in the top portion caused his hand to jerk away. "Wh…how did…?"

Conner smirked. "It's made from some sort of metal that apparently came from this place. That makes it pretty old, huh? The handle was coated in gold to preserve it around the time I was born. Well, the oricalcum in the hook and the base is what holds the electrical charge. So you can't even wrap your hands around it to pull it out. You're _pinned there_. You'll stay here with the cane you wanted so badly… and we'll be leaving. Good bye, Alphonse Moreau. Take a moment and remember Conner Cooper, my _grandfather_. He died for your greed. He'll be _waiting for you_ on the other side and if he's anything like the rest of the Cooper line… he'll _kick your ass_ as soon as you get there."

Again, Moreau tried to grip the cane but the electricity caused his hand muscles to fail; he was unable to even touch it. Blood pooled in the dirt beneath his pinned body. "Get this cane out of me, right now!"

Conner simply walked away, headed for the elevator shaft in the distance. His ear flickered, hearing a chunk of what sounded like stone fall from above. It hit something nearby, causing a thunderous noise. Conner hurried his pace, headed for the elevator. He snagged the Nehushtan of Moses from its resting place by the main bridge and put it over his shoulder. It slid into the harness he previously used for his family cane. He hurried between the buildings, which swayed gently with the shifting ground. He saw the elevator up ahead; Karla, his mother and Dawn were waiting on him. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

In a matter of minutes, the elevator was lifting up the shaft slowly. Conner looked down over the dimly illuminated city from above. Various sections of the ground were lit from the incandescence of the lighting on the bottom of the breathing tubes. He sighed, looking over the arena in the distance from above. An enormous tree now sprouted from that section. It was easily visible from the ascending elevator.

Behind him, Karla was sweating profusely from the sensation of being trapped in such a small box with the elevator shaft swaying. Carmelita had her jaw set tightly and Dawn rested her head on Conner's shoulder, looking out over the city. "We may never see it again," she said.

"Some things weren't meant to be found in the first place," he replied softly. "It's better left as one of Steven's memories."

"What next?" asked Dawn.

"Besides the obvious – we escape from the upper dome. After that we're headed back to Africa so I can return this other staff to Axum in Ethiopia. Is everyone else out?"

"I honestly don't know. There was mass panic going on when I came down. There were snipers in the streets and a great deal of chaos. Maybe your mother can calm things down because no one knows her clone is dead yet. I don't know. The whole place is shaking because it's anchored to the seabed so securely. The buildings aren't designed for this kind of abuse."

Conner nodded slowly. "You still have those thermite bombs?"

"Yeah. I know, we're going to destroy the dome. We don't need the thermite for that. I'm using it to seal off this elevator shaft when we get out of here but… the dome has its own 'self destruct' program. I've already hacked in with Bentley's help. It's a little… on the dramatic side, though."

"Oh?"

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Dawn's muzzle. "Yeah. We were both amused and surprised to learn that the city is designed with enormous rocket boosters beneath it. It's designed to orbit Earth once Moreau has control over the world. He wants to rule it from above. So… in order to destroy it, we launch it into space then program it to blow up. It's a little over the top but… so was Doctor Moreau."

"Yeah… not anymore."

Dawn placed a paw on the plexi-bubble. "What was that tree in the middle of the arena?"

"The most far-fetched part of this whole damn situation." Conner shook his head. "Let's just say… I'm more confused about religion than ever before. I don't even know where to begin, what to believe and how all these crazy things tie together. It's more confusing then when I just sat down and read a big book."

Dawn sighed with a nod. "Yeah. It's never really been my subject before, anyhow. Do you think we'll get out of here safely?"

Conner lifted his head, listening to the squeaking bolts from the elevator shaft swaying. The car shuddered but continued up the track. "I sure as hell hope so." He glanced over his shoulder, watching Karla settle in the corner trying to breath. Her quick shallow breaths caused him to frown.

Carmelita remained as stoic as possible so as to keep her welling panic at bay.

The city was too dark to see, now. After another moment, the shaking worsened exponentially. "We're passing through the mantle now," explained Conner to Karla. "This is where the shaft touches the bedrock so… _of course_ it's gunna be worse here. It won't last long."

Indeed, Conner was correct. The shaking lessened within a few minutes. The doors swished open across from Moreau's headquarters on the left and a large clothing store on the right. The intersection was filled with burning vehicles and debris. There were no people in sight but the signs of a battle were all around them. In the distance, a few buildings were on fire, causing smoke to collect at the top of the dome. It blocked out the mid-morning sunlight that typically filtered down from above.

"Jesus," murmured Cooper. "This place is a mess."

Dawn took a remote control off the wall that was taped to the side with a note from Winthrop Weasel. She put one of the thermite grenades against the elevator wall, securing it with the tape that had held the remote control stick. Dawn set the timer for three minutes and cleared her throat to get their attention. "Let's get going. This will melt the elevator controls and siding. No one will be following us back up from Lower Atlantis." She put the detonator remote into her pocket and started to walk out of the elevator doors.

A gunshot rang out. Before the round could strike anyone in the elevator, Karla had teleported them into a nearby alley. She stood up, placing her paws on the concrete strip around the base of the building. "Sorry… I heard a gunshot and it was instinctual. Everyone okay? Did anyone get hit before we got out of there?" Everyone checked themselves then the felox smiled. "Well then… Not only do I feel better about being out of that little box… I might have saved your lives again. Let's get the hell out of this stupid dome."

"Once and for all," Carmelita agreed. She then froze and said, "No one move." Everyone looked at each other, seeing red and green dots on their torsos. "To hell with _this_. After all we just went through, getting shot in a back alley is the _last_ thing on _my_ list. Let me see if I can talk our way out of this. I'm the city enforcer, after all."

Dawn frowned. "Chaos ensued after it got out that your clone was killed. The militia and police force demanded a citywide lockdown. The quake is what caused hysterical public mayhem. I hope you can convince them that you're the other Carmelita."

The vixen nodded and licked her lips as two dots crawled up over her chest and stopped on her forehead. She frowned. "I hope I can convince them, too." Across the way, the elevator building went up in flames.

* * *

X

**A/N**: _It's ALMOST DONE! The part about Dawn and Conner's relation will be addressed in a way that WILL work well, trust me. I also have to get them out, and we'll find out what happens to the Tiikeri sisters, Javari and Sergei, and everyone / everything else! I promise! :D_

_I just gotta find the Epilogue that I'd started dabbling with over a year ago. I think I moved it to a backup drive when I upgraded to the MBP. Anyhow, YAY! The thirty-fifth update (next one coming) will close out the story. I need to re-read through it and MAKE SURE I TIE UP ANY AND ALL LOSE STRINGS, so give me a little while to get back through it yet again. _

_Also, what did you think of Moreau's final 'boss', The Contessa? She was pretty apt at taking down Karla, Conner and Carmelita all at the same time, huh? Too bad she never saw Dawn coming. And what about that, huh? After all that time being a logistical person, Dawn did what she did when they were attacked by Crusher… she took control and kicked butt, huh? Not too shabby for Conner's love interest!_

_OKAY! _

_I also found my old DoP footnotes page. It's about as long as a typical chapter. Should I post it for your amusement? Y'know, after the story… it's up to you guys… it has a LOT of outtake scenes, lol. If you're interested, I'll post it after the epilogue. _

_So yeah, Moreau is still alive but he's not going anywhere any time soon. The elevator is toast. Sly and Winthrop also sabotaged the power so that, soon, Lower Atlantis won't be getting fresh air or light anymore. But is he TRULY DEAD? I don't know – that's up to Sucker Punch. Not me. ;)_

_Okay… see you soon!_

_-K_


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: _SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! I have no excuse; I can only make it up to you with two LONG chapter updates in a row! Here's the first one…!_

* * *

Chapter -35-

**Carmelita Cooper grimaced**, seeing the dots on her son and his friends then glanced back in the direction they came from. "LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!" she shouted, paws clenched. "I've just come from below and we need you to set up a perimeter around that elevator shaft back there!" She pointed towards the tallest building in the city, at the top of the block.

After a moment, one of the soldiers came from the miasma of dust and debris. He held a .45 at a ninety-degree angle, towards the domed sky. "Miss Fox? We were told you're dead!"

The vixen snorted. "Yeah, I had to kill some cheap knockoff of myself that was brought in from the surface. I don't know if she was a clone of me or if I was a clone of her but there can be only one. I told another group of soldiers to start getting things in order as per instructions from their Emergency Situation Manuals but I get back up here and all I find is chaos. What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"I haven't seen Doctor Moreau, Miss Fox! We're doing a search-and-rescue sweep!"

Carmelita held a paw out, palm up. "Radio." She waited for the man to hand over his communications handset then said, "Attention, ground forces of New Atlantis. Doctor Moreau is in his penthouse safe room waiting for my entourage to join him for departure. We had to go down into Lower Atlantis to extract the extra artifacts from _his_ goddamn clone. Unfortunately Moreau's clone was killed by one of the artifacts due to ignorance and misuse. Everyone fall back to the lifeboat pods and get the hell out! A machine of some sort has been activated in Lower Atlantis and we believe it's causing the seismic activity we're currently experiencing. Because the New Atlantis Dome is currently anchored to the seabed for the archeological expedition, this city is being shaken apart. Make sure you head to your Emergency Evacuation Destination. I'll say again, follow your ESM to the proper EED _immediately_!"

Carmelita shoved the radio back into the soldier's palm, adding, "Get everyone out of here. We tried to blow the elevator shaft because of its connection to the seabed to buy us time but we may have been unsuccessful. There was an explosion that caused a fracture in the sewer system and water is flooding in through the basement section of Moreau's headquarters. It's only a matter of time before the crack widens and this place floods from the inside out."

"Understood." He put the radio onto his belt and hurried back to his men. After a moment the little red and green laser dots disappeared.

"There, now let's get back to that building and head to the top," said Carmelita to everyone else. "Karla, teleport us back over there, we don't have much time." And in an instant, they were all standing in the lobby of the building, in a circle around one another. There was a chandelier nearby and water was rushing in, now ankle deep. The dome shook again followed by a loud noise. Everyone turned to the windowless front.

"Oh my God," Dawn murmured. She watched as one building shifted and crashed into another in the distance. "That's the residential sector. That high-rise will… wait…"

Karla gritted her teeth. "I see it. One fell into another, which caused that one to fall away into the waterfront property. Now those two buildings have fallen against the dome glass."

They watched as a thin line crawled up the dome glass in the distance. It spider-webbed outwards. Conner turned back to the girls. "We need to get to that penthouse."

"LOOK!" Everyone jumped, hearing Carmelita's cry and they followed the direction of her pointing finger. At the far end of the city, near where the buildings had toppled over against the dome wall, was Clockwerk.

"How?" Conner exclaimed.

A male voice called out from behind them causing everyone to whirl around. Sly Cooper hurried into the flooding lobby. "Winthrop and I found him by accident. He was already active but in a booting mode. We think having the signal broadcast down here via Conner's phone app helped him to be close enough to his current body that he was able to redirect the broadcast a few degrees or whatever and download all of his consciousness into his body. But the body would have to have already been turned on and scanning for a wireless signal. I'm not sure who would have turned him on but it might have been one of Moreau's defensive plays or he might have wanted to use it the way Neyla had a few decades ago. Can't be sure; don't have time to figure it out so… let's roll!"

"Neyla?" asked Karla. "The Indian tiger with the whip who stole the Clockwerk body before we met?"

Carmelita nodded with a grimace. "Yes, the same. We need to leave before he…"

"He's coming right for us!" shouted Dawn. Clockwerk clipped the skyscraper, causing chunks of debris to fall to the ground from high above. "We have to hurry to the penthouse or we'll never make it out of here!"

"Clockwerk stop this nonsense!" The voice came from a bullhorn across the street. Everyone turned to see Artimus Crowell. The owl looked as though he was sick and beaten. He had a bullhorn in his left hand and shouted into it, "I'm your only living ancestor and I'm dying. I received grave mortal injuries before being placed into stasis and I don't have long to live. Please. I've never met you and we can help each other in so many ways."

"What is _he_ doing here?" asked Carmelita.

Sly glanced at Winthrop then back to his wife. "He broke off from the rest of the group when he learned that Clockwerk's body might be down here."

Winthrop left the lobby and approached Crowell. "What the hell are you doing? You've got to come with us or you'll drown you moron."

Crowell pulled a gun on Winthrop. "Stay away. _**I**_ activated his body because without it I will die. Somehow he caught a wireless data stream and began to download something from the mainland and now he's back to his normal self. I want him to come down here so I can fuse myself with him. It's the only way I'll live."

Karla appeared adjacent to her husband and, in the same instant, she was suddenly holding Crowell's handgun. "Don't point that thing at my husband, numb-nuts." She saw a shadow come over Artimus' body then glanced up. "Damn," she murmured and disappeared with Winthrop. They appeared together with the small handgun, back in the lobby. The group watched in horror as Clockwerk came down like a missile, slamming into Artimus Crowell's body, killing the mortal owl instantly.

Clockwerk used its massive wings to push itself back out of the crater in the concrete it'd just created. Blood and feathers were splattered on the hull plating. It turned towards the group in the lobby. In a monotone voice, it said, "When all of you are dead, I'll be free to move on as I please."

Conner balled his paws into fists. "I left my cane in Lower Atantis. Dammit."

Sly turned to the rest and said, "Go up to the penthouse now. Wait for us. The penthouse is waterproof; you can watch our progress from the observatory deck that surrounds the penthouse section. We'll be up shortly."

"What? Sly are you crazy?" shouted Carmelita.

"Mom, he's right. If we don't put a stop to this thing… he'll knock over the building before any of us can get up there. We'll _all_ drown."

"This is unacceptable," Carmelita replied. "I'm not going to lose my son and become a widow!"

"Mom, we'll be fine! You've always been pivotal in beating him before so you're the last line of defense; get upstairs and help everyone get to safety!"

Sly added, "Carmelita, please baby. Get them to safety. Do it for me."

Dawn placed a paw on the vixen's shoulder. "According to the computer files I accessed earlier, only _your_ retinal scan or Moreau's retinal scan will start the Yacht launch sequence. We can't leave without your eye. Let's hurry, please!"

Carmelita groaned in defeat. "Okay, we're out of here. Sly, Conner… if you two get hurt I'm going to be pissed."

Sly grinned. "I know… now go. Hurry."

Carmelita pointed for the stairs. "Karla, can you get us up the stairwell one floor at a time?"

Karla deadpanned. "It's exhausting to move this many people that many times…" She sighed and shook her head in disgust. "Fine, let's go." Everyone vanished except for Sly and Conner.

The elder Cooper turned to his son and asked, "You ready?"

Conner watched Clockwerk pull itself the rest of the way out of the street. The younger raccoon frowned. "Yeah, dad… I'm ready as ever." He reached for his father's cane and charged it. He handed the glowing staff back to his father then rubbed his paws together, creating electric discharges that fell away from his paws like the byproduct of a sparkler. "Let's short circuit this piece of crap."

"He's EMP shielded," said Sly. "It might not work the way you think. We might have to wear him down."

"Fine by me," growled Conner. "I've been waiting for this chance all my life. I'm ready to show this oversized turkey what it's like to become cooked." He raised his voice towards Clockwerk. "I hope you like Stove Top, you tin can. Because it's time to…"

Sly put his paw on his son's shoulder. "Stop. Don't waist time talking to your enemy. Just stay in control and get the job done. C'mon, we have to lead him away from this building so they can get to the penthouse. On my mark, we'll run and have him chase us. Ready?"

"COOPERS!" Clockwerk roared. "It is time I repay you for your insults and humiliation! Back in Florida, Penelope and Steven melted the server racks but I got out before the case slag could compromise the internal components! I'll kill you first, then your friends, _then_ Steven and the mouse." Clockwerk launched itself from the ground, going straight into the sky. It turned about then began to nosedive back towards Conner and Sly.

"Let's go," Sly said, breaking into a sprint. Conner went with him and the two ran. They led Clockwerk away from the building as fast as they could run. They darted through alleys, zigzagging their way through the downtown area. Clockwerk turned to the side and dove into one of the alleys, knocking over dumpsters and tearing up walls. A fire escape became sheered from the alley wall, crashing to the pavement below.

Conner jumped for a drainage pipe and his father followed. They hurried to the rooftop and took a cable that led to the next building. Conner grabbed his father's paw and charged himself as they ran across the wire. It came to life beneath his feet and the electricity propelled him forward at a high rate of speed. He held his father's paw tightly so that the current passed through him instead of going into him. They raced across the line rapidly until it came to an end at an upward incline at the rooftop of the next building over.

Because of the rate of ascent, they went flying as if having went up a ramp on a rocket-powered skateboard. Both went flying through the air and landed on the next building over. The two trained Coopers both broke their fall by dropping into a roll, which ended on their feet in a full sprint. "Another wire!" Conner shouted, still holding his father's paw. They raced towards it. Same as before, Conner led his father, paw-in-paw, over the wire at an incredible rate of speed. They went sailing off the wire once reaching the end only for Clockwerk's talons to catch both around the waist.

Conner tensed up, diverting all of his focused energy into the body of Clockwerk's form. The metallic owl began to fall from the sky. As Clockwerk lost altitude, the wind whipping the Coopers' facial fur intensified. Sly, quick to react, took his charged cane and thrust it upwards against the right wing. Clockwerk's body went into a spin, performing a sloppy barrel roll.

The monstrosity landed upon its back with Sly and Conner held aloft. Clockwerk came to rest, snug up against the wall of a building, dazed. Sly and Conner dropped down to the metallic owl's belly then slid to the ground. "God, that was close," said Sly only to recant his statement with a gasp. Dozens upon dozens of snakes oozed out of Clockwerk's beak, covering the street in the immediate area. "What in the heck is going on here? He always prided himself on the latest weaponry. What kind of quaint mess is _this_ supposed to be?"

"Let's just go," said Conner. He reached for the staff of Moses, still on his back and drew it into his grip, comforted by its weight in his paw. "Don't touch them, I think they're dangerous. Just guessing; maybe it's the snapping fangs when they hiss at us; not sure."

"Too late," said Sly. He reached down and snagged one behind the head, pulling its fangs from his shoe. "I got the pinch. Don't worry, though, I'm fine." He picked the snake up and hurled it into the pile with the rest. "Snakes, though? Seriously…"

"Yeah, after that Contessa lady, I'm content with never seeing another snake again for as long as I live."

Sly quirked a brow, causing age lines to crease along his forehead. His son furrowed his own brows in response then Sly asked, "You saw the Contessa? And what does she have to do with snakes?"

"That's what everyone called her. She was helping Moreau. Don't worry; she was blown into little bits. But yeah, she had snakes for legs. It was kinda' strange, that's for sure. C'mon, dad."

The two raccoons hurried back towards the center of the city. Conner asked, "How long do you think I stunned him?"

"I don't know how long it will take for him to reboot but he's a computer, not an idiot. He won't fall for it twice. He'll adjust a setting or… _something_ …then we'll have serious problems. I wanna be out of here by then."

"Sounds good to me!" Conner ran alongside of his father. "You're pretty quick for an old man."

"The adrenaline feels good," said Sly. After another two blocks, he brought a paw up to his heart then held out his left paw. "Hold on, I feel kinda' strange."

"How so, Dad?"

"I just…" Sly wavered for a moment, coming to a stop. He put his paws on his knees and doubled over for a moment then his eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped to the ground.

"Dad?" Conner's father became unresponsive.

* * *

X-

**A sensation of warmth** flooded her body, followed by the sensation of cool water. She awoke to the sound of her own voice: a groan emanating at the back of her throat. Carmelita Fox sat up in the ankle-deep water. She brought her paws up, looking at them. Her vision began to clear as her eyes became moist again. The dryness in her mouth disappeared and the aching in her body subsided. She checked herself over. Bones mended themselves, leaving only bruises on her skin beneath the fur. "Did… did I die?" A pain in her neck remained for another moment then it disappeared. She stood up in the water and shook hard.

Water spray dotted the nearby elevator doors. She walked away from the elevator and crossed the ruined lobby. Carmelita tried to remember what happened last. She recalled being betrayed by her old intern, Winthrop. She remembered dying in the arms of a Cooper who told her she wasn't who she thought she was.

The city appeared empty for the most part. In the distance, she could see several buildings leaning up against the dome wall. Fires burned throughout her hometown and smoke was collecting against the ceiling of the dome.

"I couldn't stop them and now they destroyed my home," she murmured. She grit her teeth together. "It must have been the Cooper boy. He shows up and now this place is a mess." She went over to the remains of the front desk. It had become part of the chaos in the lobby. Enforcer Fox withdrew a cellphone from her pocket. It was wet but still functional. She opened it and connected to the city's main network hub.

She put in her City Government Clearance Code and checked the status of the city. Her eyes widened slightly. "Nearly all the lifeboats have launched…?" A pause, then, "But Moreau's yacht is still here?" A sense of dread touched her heart… did this mean that the Cooper boy killed her employer and the rest of the city escaped?

Carmelita tightened her jaw and headed for the elevator shaft. She pressed a button then entered the car and pressed the "P" key. It lifted, whisking her upwards towards the penthouse suite.

* * *

X-

**Carmelita Cooper turned around**, seeing the elevator doors swish apart at the far end of the hall, expecting to see her husband and son. Her eyes opened seeing herself instead. "What the hell?" she murmured under her breath. The two vixens locked eyes then, in unison, narrowed their gaze at one another. "Are you serious?" A vague memory of Bentley's voice played out in her head. She remembered hearing the story about how her doppelganger from the future had to fight Karla Chintzy, whose wraith had somehow managed to possess her body from the past. (_Lament of Carmelita_) But she never believed it because, according to him, the timeline was changed and the events took place differently. It was a 'Paradox' of some sort. It was difficult to believe something she didn't experience first hand… at least something that radical and odd.

Then her logical mind reached a conclusion… "So, the clone didn't die after all, huh?"

Carmelita Fox replied, "I'm confused about this but… one thing is obvious. One of us is a clone and one of us is 'legit'. You must be the version that married Sly Cooper and had a son."

Cooper held her left paw aloft. "Yeah, he and I married then had two children. There's no reason we should fight. It's all over. You can help us defeat Clockwerk and get out of here."

"I died," said Fox. "I felt it. When I awoke, I felt my body healing. I felt my glassed-over eyes become moist and restored. I felt my logical mind rebuilding itself. So I must be the clone because Moreau is the only man I know who is smart enough to create a body that can undergo spontaneous genetic repair from a state of death. But you and your family destroyed my home and ruined everything. You came to _my_ city and broke the law."

"You're wrong. Moreau dabbled in Atlantian technology and it shook this dome apart from below."

"Where is he?" asked Enforcer Fox. "And where is your evidence?"

Cooper narrowed her gaze again. "He and his clone are dead at the hands of my son and husband, respectively. They attacked us and we defended ourselves." She frowned then said, "The evidence is buried in Lower Atlantis with the dead doctor and his doppelganger. It's over. Are you coming with us or staying here?"

"You don't get it do you?" asked Fox. "You just _confessed_ to _complicity_ in the murder of this city's Governor. You're not going _any_where unless you're in my custody."

"You moron, your law doesn't apply topside. And that's where we're all going because the evacuation process is in place. Let's just go, c'mon."

The head enforcer quickened her pace, coming up the hall. "That's up to a court of law to decide. You're under arrest by the power vested in me under the jurisdiction of New Atlantis."

Carmelita Cooper deadpanned. "Give it a rest, sister. God I hope I didn't sound that annoying when _I_ used to say that stuff. C'mon, we're evacuating. You're not even supposed to exist; cloning sentient life is against laws and sanctions set forth by the United Nations. Let's go, 'law breaker'. If you want to stay, fine… but I'm leaving with my family just as soon as they arrive so… stay out of my way."

"This dome isn't big enough for the both of us," said Fox, still on approach. "And I'll do everything in my power to stop you." Nearing Carmelita Cooper, she smirked and said, "Marrying a thief and having Coopers for children has aged you. I see gray in your ears."

"I could still kick _your_ ass," replied Cooper with a foxy smirk.

"If I'm supposed to be like you, then you already know I sleep with a gun under my pillow because I'm a top notch enforcer. You're a washed up family girl. A housewife with a glorious _past_. You're no match for me. A mother figure won't sleep with a gun under her pillow anymore. There's no comparison."

"That's weak," said Carmelita Cooper. "I'll have you know that _I_ sleep with a _pillow_ _**under**_ my gun. You want to beef? Fine. But we'll have our showdown in a civilized manner downstairs in the street. I'm not fighting you up here and destroying the penthouse. It's our only way to the surface. And only the winner of this fight will have the right to evacuate. You're fighting for yourself but _I_ am fighting for my _family_, so trust me… there's more at stake and you won't have a chance."

Fox grabbed the other vixen by the wrist. "To the elevator. We'll settle this downstairs. At least we can agree on _some_ things."

"Fine," said Cooper, jerking her forearm from the other woman's paw. She lifted a small walkie-talkie and said, "Karla, I have to take care of something. Stay in the penthouse yacht. It's waterproof so even if the city floods, you can still use it to escape. Just stay there with everyone else and wait for me. Unless there's no alternative, you _will_ wait for my husband and my son to arrive, do you understand?"

A tinny voice came over the radio, "Yeah, yeah. We're not leaving without Dawn's boyfriend. So just chill."

Cooper placed the walkie-talkie in her pocket and walked side-by-side with her cloned doppelganger to the elevator. They turned around in unison, standing together. Enforcer Fox reached out and touched the ground floor button. The doors swished shut and the elevator descended the shaft.

On the first floor, water rushed in as soon as the doors opened. It was still ankle deep. Together, they walked out, across the lobby, through the glassless front doors and into the street. "We don't have time for this," said Sly's wife. "We should settle this upstairs once the boys arrive. This is your last chance to do the mature thing and wait until we're out of the city before we _both_ die."

"Shut up," said Fox. She brought her cellphone back out of her pocket and logged in to the city network. "Hmm, it seems the city is programmed to launch itself into space on a collision course with an unspecified location. I'm not sure who activated this automated program but no one will survive if they stay; Clockwerk can stay here for all I care." She thumbed the touch screen then added, "We have time to determine who leaves on the yacht and who stays to die. We have half an hour."

"Are you _really_ that stubborn?" asked Cooper with a sigh. She flickered her tail in annoyance. "I'm a cop. I lock people up; I don't sentence them to their _death_. I'm not an executioner or an assassin. What the hell is your malfunction, woman? I'm not going to send you to die unless you're beyond reason. This is your absolute _last chance_ to wait and settle this topside. We don't have to fight."

"You're backing out _now_?" The enforcer stretched and cracked her knuckles. "Fine, when I beat you senseless and arrest you, I'll take you with me to the surface. But I refuse to allow you to leave here without having cuffs on your wrists."

"Forget it. You'll have to force them on me."

"Resisting arrest, huh?" Fox smiled brightly. She withdrew a pair of cuffs from her other pocket and twirled them on her finger. "After I beat your tail, are you going to agree to go quietly?"

"Shut up and fight," said Carmelita Cooper with a roll of her eyes.

"You asked for it." Fox put the cuffs back into her left pocket, and her cellphone into her right pocket. Then, without further warning, she broke into a hard sprint towards Carmelita Cooper.

The family vixen, mother of two, was a little out of shape but ready for the advance of her adversary. She brought her left forearm upwards, blocked a punch, and, with her left shin, she blocked a low kick. She pivoted on her ankle, extended her other leg and performed a roundhouse. The return kick was blocked by Enforcer Fox's extended left forearm. They splashed about in the ankle-deep water that poured out of the lobby.

Cooper took the clone by her wrist, spun around twice then threw her through the windowless opening. The enforcer flew into the lobby, splashed in the water and rolled a few times then jumped up. Cooper heard flapping noises and glanced over her shoulder. She saw Clockwerk's silhouette in the distance and grumbled then followed her clone into the lobby to finish the fight.

"Clockwerk is loose out there. You wanna help me stop that moron or are you too narrow-minded to realize that the two of us make a better team against Clockwerk than just one of us, alone."

"Stop trying to get out of fighting me," snapped Fox. "I've changed my mind. You won't leave this place alive. There's no way to explain things topside and I refuse to allow you to get away with your crimes scot free!"

Carmelita Cooper deadpanned. "Are you for real? Okay, I get it… you're younger and inexperienced. You had a few memories implanted in your head so you have no idea what's going on… but even though memories make us who we are," she brought her forearms up to evade two quick jabs then she continued speaking. "…You're still _me_. You would have made the same decisions I did in my shoes. So get off your high horse and help me fight Clockwerk. He's waterproof. He'll escape and cause more trouble than you know."

"SHUT UP and FIGHT!" shouted the enforcer. She withdrew a gun. It wasn't a shock pistol; it was a high caliber weapon. She fired a round and Cooper dove away. The other vixen rolled and got back to her feet, ready to evade again if she had to. Fox ground her teeth together and fired again. "Die, damn it!"

"Mierda!" Cooper cried, diving again as two more rounds flew over her head in rapid succession. She got back to her feet. Her mind raced and she put words together in a combination of English and Spanish without thinking about it. "Why do things like this always have ir a la mierda?" At the end, she shouted, "POR QUE?" The vixen brought her paw back but, instead of throwing a punch, she used it to get her balance then kicked at the gun.

It went off again, sending a round through Carmelita's shirt, just above her hip. There was a painful bite at the tip of her tail where the bullet nearly missed her torso but still managed to clip her brush. Fueled by adrenaline, she reached forward and took the enforcer by the arm and flung her across the lobby, towards the elevators. Again, Fox went splashing down the hallway.

* * *

x-

**Conner used a thumb to pry his father's eyes open. **He forced his father to look upon the Nehushtan, the staff of Moses, and just as foretold in the Bible, the venom of the snake became neutralized in Sly Cooper's bloodstream. Conner still felt emotionally and spiritually confused. Was it ancient technology, or perhaps even alien technology? Or was the staff truly blessed by a Holy Being beyond his comprehension? He didn't have time to think about that at the moment – his father was coming around and appeared to look normal again. That was all that mattered right now.

All at once, Sly pushed Conner away and dove backwards. A soliton laser pulse struck the ground between them, leaving a devastating hole that went straight through the sewer system. Steam wafted up from the hole where a submerged pipe had been pierced.

Clockwerk came around and headed back towards them. Quite suddenly a black cloak wrapped around the metallic bird, obfuscating it. A domino pattern of black squares appeared, creating a wrap-around effect – Clockwerk was lured into the row of shade squares, forcing the machine to change direction until the enormous metal owl struck a building and fell from the sky. It dropped through the miasma of gloom, landing upon its back with a resounding cacophony of sound.

Conner jumped up and sprinted towards Clockwerk, not one to question providence. He somersaulted up onto Clockwerk's body and put his paws together on either side of the owl's large head then strained his body, throwing every ounce of raw electrical energy into the behemoth. "DIE!" he shouted, feeding all the current he could summon into Clockwerk. The voltage caused his paws to glow.

Conner dropped back onto his backside, panting softly. Clockwerk, much to his dismay, lifted its head. "An incredible amount of energy you wield, Cooper child. But my circuits are shielded from EMP and my batteries are set to redirect an overload! You'll have to do better than that!"

"SLY!" The voice came from a Czech wolfhound running up the alley. He threw his left arm out in one direction and his right arm out in another. Two enormous arms of pure black came from out of nowhere, throwing Conner and Sly away from Clockwerk just as the owl attempted another attack using an energy pulse from the power it stored from Conner's failed attempt of electrocution.

Both raccoons were yanked away from the alley and brought towards the man.

Sly sat up inside the shadow arm's palm, looking at the man with disbelief. "…Erik?"

"We gotta get you guys out of here!"

Conner growled at the interloper. "We have to _destroy_ that thing!"

"Even a Zeus Cannon has proven _useless_ against that _thing_!" Erik said, adding, "We have to get out of here. We'll fight him elsewhere… somewhere there's a tactical advantage. C'mon!"

Clockwerk rolled onto his feet and threw its wings outwards, knocking all three of them to the ground. "You've up-clocked my main CPU, boy. It's the closest thing I've felt to my implanted memories of what it was like to be _alive_."

"Don't shock him," said Sly to his son. "Apparently he liked it."

"Maybe if I can hit him with a negative energy charge I can reverse it." Conner threw his arms forward, palms outwards, and a raw bolt of energy lurched from his fingertips. It struck Clockwerk in the side and knocked the bird through the wall of the nearest building. "HOW'd you like THAT, pal?" Conner's father appeared surprised by his son's abilities, even without using a cane.

Clockwerk emerged from the rubble. "Not quite as energizing as before. It was a mere _paper cut_."

"Then I'll just have to do it a thousand more times," Conner sneered.

Erik placed a paw on Conner's shoulder, pulling him back. "Forget about it! His health status is a fifty-foot Mars Bar, and you're a diabetic who is trying to nibble it to death. You'll keel over before _it_ will. C'mon! Let's regroup elsewhere while he's fazed."

"Where's Eleven?" asked Sly as he got up. The trio began to run away from the alley.

Erik huffed as they ran. "She was trying to secure a way out of here but she radioed me and said she spotted your wife fighting against …your wife."

"What?" Sly cut his gaze over at the other man.

Conner groaned as they hurried through the streets. "The clone! Either she's not dead or there might have been another! Dammit! Who knows what Moreau did to my mother's clone? He probably has her hopped up on steroids or something. We have to help mom!"

* * *

X-

**Carmelita Fox lifted her forearms,** blocking the attack. She performed a back flip, using one of her feet to clip her attacker in the face. Cooper flew backwards, landing unceremoniously on her backside with a huff of indignation. Fox approached with a growl, lifted her foot and held it over the other vixen's face, ready to stomp on her enemy's skull. "Die, bitch."

A small knife came from out of nowhere and hit Fox in her shoulder. It hit with a strangely unrealistic amount of force, knocking her backwards. Her eyes lifted and she reached a paw to the blade in her shoulder, jerking it free. Blood ran down her right arm, saturating her dirty sleeve.

A weasel with long blonde hair stepped into the lobby with several knives in her paws. "It wasn't easy figuring out which one was the real one… then I noticed one of you has rings and the other one has a surly disposition above and beyond normal cop mentality." Her eyes met with those of Enforcer Fox. Then, when Fox looked over at the handgun on the floor, in four-inch deep water, the weasel's eyes followed to the weapon. "Oh, you want that, huh?"

"There're two bullets left in it. Enough for each of you," said Fox.

"Don't even think about it," said the third woman.

Cooper's eyes flitted up at the new combatant and a slight smile tugged at the corner of her muzzle. "Eleven."

The weasel grinned. "You remembered my name this time. Good for you." She kicked her foot up and splashed water in the Enforcer's face then threw another knife so that the cloned vixen wouldn't be able to evade it. It went right through her appendix and out through her back, sticking in the watery floor tiles at a forty-five degree angle.

The Enforcer winced then stood up, cupping her bloody gut. "Ow, those goddamn things hurt."

Carmelita Fox rushed Eleven, paws outstretched. She took the middle-aged woman by the throat and choke-slammed her against the wall adjacent to the elevator shaft.

Cooper dove for the gun, went into a roll and came up on one knee. She fired the gun twice, putting two large holes in Fox's torso. The Enforcer fell to the floor, groaning in agony. The water around her turned red.

Elvena coughed for a moment, reaching for her neck then she glanced over at the bleeding mess by the wall. "She should be dead as a doornail with enormous bullets like that! What the hell?"

"She's a clone made by Moreau," said Carmelita. "Apparently she rapidly regenerates. I'm assuming it's slower to happen when her neck is broken like it was before… but with more typical forms of trauma, caused by bullets and knives, she's able to heal quickly."

"What?" The weasel furrowed her brows.

Carmelita Cooper groaned. "Shooting and stabbing her won't work."

"Want me to cut her head off?" Eleven grinned and approached her with the knives drawn. Regardless of having two holes in her torso, Fox kicked her leg out, sweeping Elvena to the ground. She rolled over, snatched the knives and held them to the weasel's throat.

"I've always found your species to be very _annoying_," said the clone through clenched teeth. She fought against Eleven's grip, bringing the knives closer to the woman's neck until the blade was starting to disappear into the bristled fur. "Almost…there," she growled.

Carmelita Cooper turned about, pressed a button on the elevator panel. The door opened but there was no car. There was nothing more than a cable that disappeared into the darkness. Cooper pivoted in the water, creating a splash and used her other leg to catch her doppelganger in the face. With one hard roundhouse, Cooper kicked Fox straight into the elevator shaft. A scream rang out but became a decrescendo as Enforcer Fox fell deeper into the empty shaft. There was no thud. Eventually the scream became too faint to hear.

Eleven crawled over to the abandoned shaft and peered down into it. "I …I didn't hear her hit the bottom. How deep does it go?" Water began cascading down into the shaft. The doors didn't close.

Carmelita Cooper smirked. "Straight to hell as far as I'm concerned."

"Seriously, where does it go?" She glanced up at the aged Senior Inspector and waited for an answer.

"If she can't die by standard means, she _should _wake up in Lower Atlantis with Doctor Moreau. It's about three miles to the bottom, give or take." A slight grin tugged at the corner of Carmelita's face. "Those two deserve each other. I hope they both had a great big breakfast when they got up today… because they're going to be down there for a _long_ time." She flinched. "I hope they don't do anything freaky." The city shook again, causing both girls to fall flat on the floor in the ankle-deep water. The violent shaking lasted a minute and a half then something black began to come up from the shaft.

"What the hell?" Carmelita got to one knee and watched as thick oil gushed up from the shaft. "Dammit. The elevator shaft ruptured from the last quake. That's oil coming up… I guess they're trapped down there forever, now." Then, all at once, the entire city listed to the side. Water began to run along the floor, creating rapids in some areas. The oil ran back into the empty vertical tunnel and began to creep up the back of the shaft.

Eleven carefully got to her feet. "I think all the support anchors on one side of the city have snapped. No one is manning his or her stations to control the bilge system; this place is done for. Let's get out of here and find our husbands."

"Typical men, needing women to save them." She knew that Sly had saved her far too many times to count in the past but… she liked the idea of Sly needing _her_ help.

"Obviously," Eleven replied with a sheepish grin. They hurried out of the lobby against the flow of water. It felt like walking up hill on an elevated angle. The incline was only slight, however. The weasel's eyes widened, seeing Clockwerk sail through the sky. "What the hell! Are you serious?"

"Yeah," said Carmelita with a sigh. "They couldn't beat that thing. I guess it's up to us."

Eleven furrowed her brows. "Seriously? I have _knives_. I'm not going to hurt that damn thing."

"Perhaps not," came a creamy, deep voice. "But perhaps I can help; with your son's assistance, of course." Both women turned around and came face to face with a tall man somewhere in his late sixties or early seventies. The raccoon wore a cloak and, beneath it, was a collared shirt poking out at the top.

Carmelita's eyes widened. "You…. You're… you _must_ be… _Bruce_?"

The man smiled faintly. "Bruce Senior, my dear niece-in-law." He smiled brighter, seeing the look of slight confusion on her face. "I was at your wedding. You saw me; no one else did." (_End of Spy Cooper_)

Again, Carmelita's eyes widened once more. "_You_…!" She paused briefly then nodded. "Then if you can help us, let's go. You said something about needing my son's help? How so?"

"Don't you know he has a new Cooper ability? One never seen by the family before?" Bruce placed his paws on their backs and ushered them towards the city. "I'll explain later. Let's hurry."

Eleven looked him over. "You're in good shape for an old man."

"I've been in good shape my whole life. That's a Cooper trait," said Bruce as the three of them began to hurry in the direction of Clockwerk.

* * *

x-

**Bentley checked the PDA** readout and said, "I'm almost out of bullets!" then pushed his glasses further up his beaked nose. The twin Gatling guns in his bionic legs had heat waves rising up from the barrels. There was a spent Vulcan cannon lying on the floor between himself and the robotic sentries at the end of the hallway. He continued to back up slowly, careful not to lift his legs up too high so as not to complicate the auto-targeting program for his guns. The group continued to move towards the Penthouse room, waiting for Carmelita to return.

Kalen ground his teeth together. "If Mrs. Cooper doesn't hurry and open this door for us, we're going to be in a lot of trouble." He closed his fist then opened it again, glaring back at the retinal scanner built into the wall adjacent to the door. "How was it opened earlier, so that they could rescue her from stasis?"

Javari fidgeted nervously. "The base wasn't on lockdown. Technically they shouldn't have been able to get in but Dawn was able to override it from her side. She's _very_ good with computers."

Dawn frowned. "I don't have an access point on this terminal right now. I can't get into the system from this side because there is no user interface access."

Javari frowned. "I'm not quite sure what our next best move is; once Bentley runs out of ammunition, our percentage rate of survival is…"

"Hush," said Kalen. He nodded towards Sergei. "Calm your lady-love. Murray and I shall handle these things ourselves."

"Becareful, sweetheart," said Carmen. "I love watching you fight but I flinch every time I see you take so much as a cut."

Kalen grinned at Carmen then nodded to Keri, Javari and Sergei, Murray, and Carmen. "Get ready. I see the end of the ammo belt coming up. Murray? On my mark…" As soon as he saw the last round at the end of the ammo belt come up from the storage section down in the feet of the autonomous legs, he shouted, "NOW!"

Kalen and Murray rushed up the hallway together. The hippo clapped his hands together in mid run, causing his gloves to ignite in the most curious way. Murray drew his right fist back, picking up speed in mid run. Kalen dropped to all fours in a gallop. Quite suddenly, Kalen and Murray struck a seemingly invisible wall and fell to the ground. The flaming gloves faded to normal.

From out of thin air stepped a well-chiseled canine, dressed in eighteenth century clothing. Keri's eyes widened, instantly attracted to him. He spoke with a hint of an old fashioned Spanish accent but many of his vowel pronunciations were of an astute English dialect. "That is your all-or-nothing play? Seriously?"

Bentley adjusted his glasses and approached the man up by Kalen and Murray. He snapped his fingers a few times, trying to think of the man's name as if he'd heard it in a dream. "You're… you're uh…"

The well-dressed canine bowed gracefully. "It is I, Raúl Sergio Poliandro. Master of Time And Space. Yes, darlings. Bentley, a time paradox has kept you from ever directly meeting me. But you've seen my face as I've watched you every time you've used your Time Machine. But your paradox doppelganger knew me (_Lament of Carmelita_). It is unfortunate that he gave his life to change time so that he wouldn't have to die in the first place. Bravely done. So I know that you're capable of making such an honorable sacrifice, my friend. The rest of you…" his voice lifted in volume on the last sentence, then abruptly dropped to a calm tone. "…Do not know me. It is sad, but no matter."

Kalen frowned. "You're a supernatural. If you protect Time and Space, then why did you visit us just now? We've not broken any space-time continuum laws."

"You almost ruined everything," said Raúl with a chuckle. "Didn't you know if the world ends, Time and Space would not matter? So I froze time, save for you fine people." He pointed to the sentries just a few feet from Kalen and Murray. "Do yourselves a favor and do not go rushing in. They would rip you limb from limb; I've seen how this plays out. Kalen, my dear boy, you lose your head. Murray, you lost everything else. The rest of you are next. Change your playbook, please."

Bentley rubbed his nose then said, "Well, you're the master of all things temporal and sequential. What should we do?"

"Be more clever. Disable a power supply, use an EMP bomb… _something_."

Bentley shook his head. "I can't. It'll disable my legs and I don't have my wheelchair. Plus it would disable the penthouse lifeboat, killing any possible chance we have of escape." He tilted his head. "How did you know I have an EMP bomb in my bionic legs?"

"It was the last thing you activated before your death to these machines. You were the last to die because you recoiled into your shell and they had to hack at it for a few moments before breaching it."

Bentley shuddered at the thought of being torn into kibble. "Uh… so you broke your own law and intervened?"

"I did. I'm a bad, bad man. I can worry about personal penance later on when I'm alone. The lot of you need to leave this area until you can find more ammunition. With so many people having evacuated, I'm sure there are many storerooms full of rounds you can acquire. I'm going now."

Kalen gave Murray a shove. "Back the way we came, quickly! Before he restarts time!" The entire group made a blitz for the elevator. Raúl smiled inwardly and waited until they boarded the elevator then he snapped his fingers and faded from existence. The sentry bots came to halt, beginning to turn in circles, scanning the area for bio signs. Once it was determined that they were alone in the hallway, they returned towards their charging stations inside the walls.

* * *

X-

**Jing King** sighed, looking about the area. She knew she was lost, after having separated from the group to lure away an enemy patrol. But now the quaking city was without enemies. The abandoned streets were all but silent. She emerged from between two buildings and stepped into a large intersection. Slowly, the panda bear turned about, surveying everything around her. Something in the distance caught her eye.

She saw Clockwerk far off, appearing to be preoccupied with an enemy. She set her jaw and closed her paws into fists. "So… the shame of my family… the bane of my father's existence… old ally, new enemy. It would be my pleasure to dispatch you in my father's name." She began moving towards Clockwerk in the distance.

"Jing!" The panda paused and glanced to the left. She saw Carmelita Cooper, a raccoon who was older than her father, and another woman. Carmelita approached Jing and said, "Jing, this is Bruce and Elvena. Everyone, Jing King."

"We have a great deal to accomplish in a short time," said Bruce. "My granddaughter's boyfriend will need our help to stop Clockwerk. I'm afraid that's not our only goal. We have to destroy a machine that Moreau stole from Alester Crowell's complex in Russia."

Carmelita's eyes widened. "Three years ago! The abandoned looking town in the hills, where Sly and I met Jasper Cunningham the first time! There was an earthquake!" (_Chapter 1_)

Bruce nodded. "Yes, he was developing several things in the name of science. One of those machines was a drill that punches holes in the ground using a beam of sound. Moreau stole it and used it to drill down to true Atlantis. We have to destroy that machine. If Clockwerk acquires it, he'll use it to create absolute havoc."

"Would he even know it exists?" Carmelita asked.

"He's intelligent. He could have networked into the dome's mainframe to learn of it. And even if he hasn't… I wouldn't want it falling into _anyone's hands_."

Eleven nodded to the man's words. "Then it's up to the four of us to do that then find Conner and Clockwerk for a showdown."

"What can I do to help?" asked Jing.

Bruce waved for them to follow him. "It's not far. We'll need a way to create an explosion."

Jing smiled inwardly. "Leave that detail to me. I'm fully familiar with my father's craft."

A smile touched the elder raccoon's lips. "Ah, yes… an explosive profession. It may come in handy later, too."

"How do you plan to defeat Clockwerk?" asked Jing.

Bruce tilted his head. "He's a computer, now. It takes only a simple virus. My granddaughter could easily destroy him the same way but there's no time for trial and error. I want it to work right the first time so I've stepped into the limelight to put an end to this new version of Clockwerk."

Carmelita came into step besides her husband's uncle as the group headed towards the western sector. "If… If Dawn is your granddaughter we need to tell Conner. It isn't exactly right that he's dating her."

Bruce snorted in amusement. Instead of addressing Carmelita's concern, he changed the subject. "My son changed his last name so many times to evade the authorities and our dangerous lifestyle _still_ caught up with him, unfortunately. I've watched over Dawn from afar – my son taught her well. And thanks to _your_ son, Carmelita, Dawn evaded the same men who killed _my_ son." He took the stone steps up to the front door of a fancy looking building. The raccoon removed a PDA from a pocket under his cloak and thumbed the controls then put it against the keycard scanner. The door opened and he held it for the three females. "Ladies first, I _insist_."

Carmelita glanced at Jing and Eleven. "Yup. No doubt about it; he's a Cooper."

Bruce smiled inwardly. "I haven't been a Cooper in many, _many_ years." A pause then he added, "Since 1977." He stepped into the building behind the girls and told them, "According to the files I hacked, the machine is on the basement floor. Let's hurry so we can turn our attention on Clockwerk."

* * *

X-

**Bentley waved his hand and everyone came out in single file.** Kalen led the line of people; Murray took up the end. Javari looked nervous, Sergei appeared calm but tired and Keri had her paws stuffed in her pockets. "Okay guys," said the turtle. "This freight elevator should put you back upstairs at the Penthouse but it's big enough for everyone to wait safely for me to hack the sentry bots and the door to Moreau's apartment door."

"What about me?" Dawn quipped. "I'm capable of hacking, too."

"I need you at the front entrance because I'll need you to operate the terminal that acts as a retinal scanner. I'm going to change the touch-screen interface so that it offers you a user interface. We'll have to hack from both ends." He offered a smile and said, "You'll be fine. I'm pretty fast with these legs. So I should go."

"Fine, just don't go getting yourself killed or in trouble." She turned back to the rest of the group and said, "Okay… everyone into the elevator." Dawn stepped onto the freight elevator and everyone but Bentley followed her in. The doors shut and the freight elevator car lifted to the penthouse. Once it arrived on the top floor, Dawn pressed the "Emergency stop" button and everyone grew quiet, waiting.

Meanwhile, Bentley hurried down to the lower level of the building and followed a grouping of cables on the ceiling to an unmarked door halfway up the hall. He lifted his left foot from the spreading water and kicked the door open, always having wanted to be able to do that. Bentley stumbled a bit from the incline of the floor due to the listing city. He balanced himself by gripping the doorway then he walked into the room and turned on the lights. There were rows of computer terminals built into the north wall. "Eureka." The tortoise smiled.

A subtle splashing sound caused him to tense up. A small group of armed guards came up the hall. They trained their guns on him. One said to the others, "He's the smart one. We can use him to figure out a way to drill our way back to Lower Atlantis."

Another solider said to the first, "He's yours. We'll head to the drilling building across town." They splashed their way back up the hall towards a door at the end. Bentley noted that it appeared to lead into a subway tunnel because he could see what looked like a metro car through the door in the illumination of the men's gun-mounted flashlights.

The remaining soldier guided Bentley back into the IT room. "You better help us or I _will_ kill you."

"I, uh," Bentley sneezed then said, "What would you like me to do?"

"Start sealing off part of the base to control the flooding for starters. Then I want you to operate the bilge system to make everything level again. Then we'll need you to figure out how to operate the drilling system."

Bentley heard the door at the end of the hall slam shut. They were alone together now. He walked to the computer system and began working his way through the shell menu. Within a matter of minutes the city's incline lessened. "It appears there's a flammable substance coming up from the old elevator shaft that Moreau used to go to Lower Atlantis. I don't have a working camera in that area but I can assume it's oil. Possibly from a shift during the quakes. It's flooding that elevator's tunnel. We'll have to build a new _elevator shaft_ after we drill, unless you have a wench system with over _three miles_ of cable."

"We know about the oil, that's why we're headed out to the building where the drilling equipment is located." The floor continued to level out changing the directional flow of the water. It began rushing down the stairs again, like a waterfall, around the corner from the IT room. "Good. You're doing good, tortoise. Now, find a way to stop the water flow so that the city doesn't flood."

The turtle adjusted his glasses then glanced over at a grouping of tubes on the far wall. It was bundled computer cabling but he decided to test the man's intelligence. "Okay, I can do that. But I need to get into the emergency pumping station room. Based on the layout of the pipes in the ceiling, I assume it's the next room over. And for your information, if my calculations are right… and they always are… it'll take _days_ for this dome to flood at the rate the water is coming in."

"Are you done talking? Get on with it."

"Okay, okay, like I said it should be the next room over." Bentley waited until the man turned to glance out into the hallway before sticking his tongue out. As soon as the man turned back to face him, he quickly closed his beak-like mouth and smiled innocently.

"Fine, go there. I'll be right behind you so don't try anything funny." He stepped aside and Bentley left the IT room.

"I'm not a comedian so I wouldn't dream of it."

The turtle reached for the handle of the next room but it was locked. The guard approached, put his weapon's barrel against the handle and fired. The door opened with ease. He stepped aside and Bentley entered the maintenance room.

"Now, uh, I have to make the building's automated plumbing think there's a leak where the sensory equipment is located and it should activate the flood controls, thereby opening a program on the computer that will let me access flood maintenance and, with a little hacking, I can use that to address the whole city's issue. Right now, however, the sensory equipment is offline so I just need to fix that first." The whole lie was hardly believable but the guard appeared convinced. Bentley stepped further into the maintenance room and spotted a random piece of broken piping on a workbench on the east wall.

He picked up the cracked metallic object and carried it back to the guard as if to show him something important. The guard lowered his weapon and leaned forward, trying to determine what the part was. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"Actually, I think it could make _or_ fix a problem depending on how we do things," said Bentley in an honest, matter-of-fact tone.

"What is it?" asked the man.

The tortoise turned it about in his hands, impressed by the weight of the piece. "Well… it's…" He tilted his head and said, "I'm trying to think of a way to explain it properly."

The guard tightened his jaw at Bentley's half-stammering reply. "Is it the reason the water is flooding in?" The gunman lowered his weapon a bit more and stepped closer to appear menacing. "Just tell me what it is," replied the man, starting to get a little short in tone.

"Well… it's… a Lateral… Cranial… Impact Enhancer."

"How does it work?" asked the man with a furrowed brow.

"Let me demonstrate." Bentley tensed up and lifted the metal coupling as hard as he could, striking the man in the side of his head. The guard wavered then dropped to the floor, splashing in the calf-deep water. Bentley used his foot and rolled the man onto his back so that he wouldn't drown. "See? A _Lateral Cranial Impact Enhancer." _He dropped the component into the water, left the room and shut the door behind himself then hurried back to the IT room and began hacking into the sentry bot controls. "Now to get everybody outta here." He began typing quickly on a keyboard that was mounted beneath the wall terminal.

* * *

X-

A/N: _Okay so I'm at 9,800 words and I think it's time to start a new document file… chapter 36… THEN we'll finish the story and write the epilogue! YEAH! _

_I think I'll start Chapter 37 with with Elvena, Bruce, Jing and Carmelita are doing. After all, we heard from the soldiers who left Bentley and the Guard for the subway maintenance door that they were going to the building where Crowell's drill was located. _

_That's funny, I'm pretty sure Carmelita and the gang are there already. So that can't be good, huh? _

_And speaking of Carmelita… how about that? Throwing her clone down the 3 mile elevator shaft moments before another quake caused the shaft to collapse, followed by more shaking that caused oil to bubble up from the mantle. Ohnoez. Turned out she was genetically modified to heal injuries and death… but because Winthrop and Karla broke her neck earlier… it took a lot longer to recover from the break in the spine right below the brain stem. So I'm sure it'll take her a while to heal once she hits the bottom of that 3 mile shaft. Ouch. But if anyone ever wanted to write a fanfiction based on my fanfiction (it's happened so I'm just sayin', lol) then feel free to bring her back if you want. But so far as I'm concerned… that's one heck of a way for Carmelita Cooper to solve the issue of an enemy that won't die. xD _

_It's about 16,000 feet with no parachute. All the while bouncing against the insides of the shaft all the way down like a pinball. But like I said, she'll be all right. …Eventually. _

_So I brought back Elvena, Agent Eleven from Spy Cooper. I brought back Erik, the devoted student of Donovan Loupe, master of shadows, from Lament of Carmelita. I brought back Raúl, the time keeper… just for fun… and I brought back Bruce O'Coop Senior, Sly Cooper's long-lost uncle who was known for hacking… (and therefore he had to live in a time of computers, so… I made him Sly's Uncle!) and in the very next chapter, we'll find out how this oddball relationship between Conner and Dawn can possibly work without being taboo! Or is it? Are they REALLY second cousins? _

_I think I'll wait to bring back the fifth cameo. Y'know… until the next chapter, lol. _

_And that brings us to chapter 36! Thanks for reading and I'll get it finished quickly this time. =)_

_-Kit_


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter: -36-

**A knife twirled gracefully on **Elvena's fingertip. "Are you sure we _need_ to do this?" She glanced from Jing to Bruce and Carmelita. No one replied to her. "What's the difference between a pickpocket and a peeping tom?" Again, she received no reply. "A pickpocket _snatches_ _watches_."

"Heard it," murmured Bruce while applying a wad of plastique on the side of the machine. He had an unmarked case strapped across his back, about the length of a billiard stick.

Carmelita fed a wire around to Jing who buried the lead into the off-white wad. The vixen glanced up and said, "I liked you more when you were overly serious and had no personality. Several decades under water have really changed you."

"Oh geeze, fine. I'll go keep watch. Not that I need to; there's no one left in this damn town." She left the room, walked up the stairs and crossed the lobby.

Eleven widened her eyes, seeing a group of armed men coming up through a manhole cover in front of the building. Water ran down into the manhole as though it were a giant bathtub drain. She backed away from the front windows and watched as they came up the stairs and let themselves in. Water two inches deep was in the streets but hadn't yet made it up on the sidewalk. The men left footprints in the building lobby.

Eleven hurried back to the stairs, hopped down the first five, rounded the corner then hopped the next six and rushed through the doorway. She dashed into the room where everyone else was prepping the drilling machine for destruction. "I was wrong! We have company! Armed guards – looks like half a dozen. They're coming!"

"Everyone take positions." Carmelita pulled a gun and hid in the corner. Bruce and Jing got down behind the drilling machine to stay out of sight. The vixen reached up and hit the lights. Eleven closed the door then ran further down the hall and hid around the corner in an intersection. She drew several knives from her belt and kept them at the ready. Silence.

The quiet didn't last long. Footfalls were distant but certainly audible now that everyone was holding their breath. The shadows of several bodies crossed over the small square window in the door. With the lights out in the room, the soldiers didn't know what part of the basement would be their destination. They began checking doors and Eleven knew it would only be a matter of time before they checked the room with Carmelita, Jing and Bruce. She waited around the corner from the room until the soldiers stopped in front of the correct door.

Eleven tightened her grip on the knives between each of her fingertips. She angled her fist full of knives away from her body and used her free paw to draw out a small vial of curare. She dipped each of the knives in the substance then capped the vial and replaced it in her pocket. As soon as the team managed to pick the lock, she came around the corner and began flinging her knives.

The team appeared ready, able to block her knives with precision by using body armor and special, thick wrist pads. Only one guard took a blade to the backside of his hand. He dropped to his knees and reached for his throat, unable to breathe from the poison.

Two of the soldiers turned on Eleven and opened fire immediately. She retreated by diving back the way she'd come. Meanwhile two other soldiers fired _into_ the room in an attempt to hit anything standing in the dark. The remaining soldier dropped to his knees adjacent to the injured one, attempting to ascertain what could be causing his fallen teammate to become asphyxiated.

A gunshot emanated from the dark office, striking the forearm of a soldier. He fell backwards; the second soldier trying to enter the office fired into the small room again, shooting randomly into the dark.

Eleven peered around the corner trying to see what their next move would be when, quite suddenly, the gloom of the office began to expand. Elvena's muzzle contorted into a devious smile, watching the tangible darkness push from the room towards the soldiers. It enveloped them in a black bubble then burst, throwing all the soldiers against the far wall, including the one who lay on the floor, unable to breathe.

"Erik, there you are," she murmured with a smile. "I was beginning to think you were too busy to come and find me," she added in a half-whisper. She watched as the soldiers sat up, bringing their guns up as a defensive measure. They hurried back to their feet, looking a bit dazed by the shadow experience. There was no sign of Erik anywhere just yet but she knew it was him.

More sporadic gunshots punctuated the area but they were muffled, almost distant sounding. Without warning, an explosion rocked the entire sublevel, knocking everyone to the floor. Bruce O'Coop was the first to his feet. He took Carmelita by the wrist and said to Jing, "Help Carmelita's two friends to repel the attackers. Carmelita and I have business to attend. Meet at the Penthouse as soon as you clear this area. Time is short."

He and Carmelita made a dash for the stairs and took them two at a time. Once the couple made it topside, they hurried towards Clockwerk in the distance. She found herself impressed with his speed for his age. "So how do we beat this punk?" she asked.

"It's awfully complicated," he said as they ran together. "But the end result is simple. I created a virus that will open certain ports on his frame and when he flees the city, he won't be able to close them. He'll become over-encumbered with water," Bruce said, pausing to take a deep breath. "Water will get into his circuitry, bridging gaps and creating short circuits and messing with his batteries. It won't kill him or cause him to explode, but it will probably shut him down, causing him to sink. Let him sit on the bottom of the ocean in kernel panic."

"Pretty smart idea," said Carmelita as they hurried up the main avenue together. "How'd you come up with it?"

"Cleopatra thought of it." He glanced back at the vixen and grinned. "You know her better as 'the Baroness,' though."

Carmelita's eyes widened and she picked up the pace so that she was running alongside of him. "Cleopatra _Moore_?"

"Yes, she's my common-law wife. We live together to pass the time. How do you think she was so well connected? I was her internet source for information and disinformation."

The vixen balked. "_YOU_ were her source, online?"

"Everything she did, she did because I instructed her the way Bentley instructed my nephew. Don't get me wrong, we didn't get married; we're not in love. We've just lived together for the last nine years so… we have a common-law marriage. Surprise." He approached a car blocking the middle of the street. Bruce put his foot up on the rearview mirror and boosted himself up onto the roof then performed a loose flip over the vehicle.

Carmelita followed but opted against the fancy somersault. It wasn't her age; she was tired from everything happening so far. She leapt up onto the roof, hopped back down and continued the brisk jog. "How do we deliver this virus to Clockwerk?"

"Conner will hit him with a negative-charge shot but he'll need to amplify his attack with his cane."

Carmelita frowned. "From what I understand, he left it behind in Lower Atlantis."

Bruce grinned impishly. "No he didn't. I retrieved it from Alphonse's torso, face to face, and came topside the same way Conner and Karla Chintzy got into Lower Atlantis undetected… the main air conduit."

Another small patrol of soldiers opened fire on the two, still a few blocks from where Clockwerk was locked in combat with Sly and Conner. Carmelita reached for her gun but it wasn't there. She cursed under her breath and reached for the nearest soldier, who appeared out of ammunition. She called back to Bruce, "You're well informed, how do you get your intel?" She reached for the soldier's neck, bringing a knee up into the man's gut.

Bruce also noticed that the soldiers lacked weapons, assuming they exhausted their ammo attacking Clockwerk then probably ran. "I will never give away my secrets," he replied to her. Bruce avoided a jab from an attacker on his left and a kick from another on his right. He opened his billowing cloak and withdrew Conner's bloody cane. With gloved hands, he twirled the cane about and struck both attackers in the face. "I want you to know that I often provide Bentley Wiseturtle with anonymous internet advice in order to help Sly's heists become successful. Well, not in years, but in his youth… that's how I got my jollies."

"You're _jollies?_ And furthermore, I asked you earlier how Dawn and Conner are going to work things out if they're related." She ducked a punch then brought her head up, hitting the attacker in his chin. The man jerked his head back with a sour look while a female teammate came at Carmelita from the left. The vixen dropped into a split, punched the male soldier in his crotch then rolled onto her back, drew her legs together and performed a kippup just in time to receive a knee to the stomach from the female attacker. Carmelita doubled over, inadvertently head-butting the woman hard. She exhaled with a grunt then added, "Well?"

"My biological son _**adopted**_ Dawn because he couldn't find true love," said Bruce. He spun about, took one soldier by the neck and swung him into the other. When the two were finished, there was one soldier left. The man put his paws up, turned about and ran the other direction. Bruce snorted. "Smartest thing I've seen anyone do all day." He then turned to Carmelita and redirected his tone. "I've got to get Conner his cane. He didn't know how much he'd need it, but it's important that he have this exact one. He charged it when he was impaled with it, three years ago."

"Let's hurry," said Carmelita, taking off into a hard run again. The two made their way to a park, where they saw Sly and Conner in the distance.

Bruce approached Conner from behind, took the boy by his forearm and stuffed the cane into his palm. "Don't ask questions, just use _this_ and _never_ let it out of your sight, ever again." He rolled up the canvas case he originally had slung over his shoulder, then stuffed the bag into one of the larger pockets on his long coat, which resembled a cloak of some sort due to its length and how it billowed out at the bottom.

Conner's eyes widened with confusion then he nodded and dashed after Clockwerk, who leapt upwards and began a rapid climb. Meanwhile, Sly turned to face his wife and his uncle with a blink. Bruce grinned and reached for Sly's paw. The two shook, right there on the battlefield. Bruce turned Sly's forearm over and leaned close, looking at two snakebites on Sly's wrist.

Before Bruce could even ask, Sly said, "Someone filled Clockwerk's body with live snakes. I don't know why but when we got the drop on him, I was bitten and somehow Conner's other cane helped the venom to dissolve."

"That's what the Nehushtan was designed for, initially," said Bruce. "Moreau thought that Clockwerk was a trophy. His failsafe trophy case was rigged with live, poisonous snakes. Seems a little quaint for someone of his technological caliber. When that stupid owl, Alester Crowell, reactivated Clockwerk's power supply, Moreau's little trap dumped half the snakes into Clockwerk's hull. It was supposed to be a failsafe to keep anyone from physically tampering with the internal components. Somehow, Clockwerk's empty drives downloaded a wireless transmission that was already being broadcast down here from something broadcasting Clockwerk's digital signature."

Conner watched as the metallic bird continued to climb up near the top of the dome. He glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "That's my fault, then. All his memories were copied to a data drive and the original drive was zero-filled… every sector. Bentley kept it just in case and Penelope brought it to Florida. We turned him on and sent a signal to my phone using a special tethering technique so that Clockwerk could lead us out to the dome. I got mad at Clockwerk and _untethered_ him from my phone. It's my fault; I shouldn't have released him from my phone."

Bruce sighed. "No, it wouldn't happen because you untethered him from your phone. Clockwerk probably re-broadcast his signal locally from your phone to his body once Alester activated the power to the body… Copied the files over and continued to patronize you from your phone until you got tired of it and cut ties. Little did you know Clockwerk was already booting his body from across the dome. Yes, you brought the signal down here, that's your fault… but it had nothing to do with untethering the device."

Carmelita glanced at Bruce then her son then back at Bruce. "Let's stop being wordy and verbose… it's time to kill a metal owl."

"Where's my grand-daughter? Is she safe?"

Carmelita asked, "Conner, where is Dawn?"

The boy frowned, looking at the cane in his palm. "She's safe. She's helping Bentley to hack their way into the Penthouse yacht last I heard from her. She's okay." He looked back up at Bruce. "How'd you get out here?"

"Same way Winthrop did. Dimitri's personal yacht is directly above us right now."

Conner furrowed his brows. "Dimitri is up there? I've not seen him in years; he's an odd one anyhow."

Bruce smirked in reply, lifting his eyes back to the sky, watching Clockwerk for a moment. "Yes. Dimitri. What I could never understand is why he pretended to _be_ Sly all those years ago."

Sly deadpanned. "It's a long story. I needed to be in two places at once. Dimitri is good at one thing… fraud-ing, forging and pretending to be someone else. It worked out; I even showed him a few moves so that it would appear legit but… he wasn't quite as stealthy as a true Cooper."

"Indeed," replied Bruce. He tilted his head, shifting his eyes from left to right. "Clockwerk is coming back. Everyone, listen… we'll only have one shot at this. I need to have Conner attack Clockwerk very directly. Everyone will fall back and wait while Conner fights this thing and wears him down; stay back because if Clockwerk thinks he's dealing with multiple targets, he'll attack with a different strategy. Once Clockwerk hits the ground, Sly… I'll need _you_ to help me locate an access port somewhere on his body. Then I'll shove a data-drive into his access port. The virus will download almost instantly because the file size is small. Then we have to give Clockwerk a reason to want to escape so that he'll go into the water. Then it'll be up to the rest of us to get out of this city as quickly as possible before we drown."

Sly took his wife by the wrist and led her into nearby bushes. Bruce dove across the grass and disappeared into another row of hedges that was off to the west.

Conner, reunited with his cane, stood at the center of the park with a smirk as Clockwerk approached from above at a high rate of speed. "Okay, _finally_ I have their permission to fight my own fights." He gave his family cane a slow twirl while reaching back with his other paw to make sure the Staff of Moses was secure in the harness. "C'mon, you big piece of crap. I'm RIGHT HERE!" he said, ending his taunt on a shout.

Clockwerk came into position, bearing down on the lone youth. Conner dove at the last possible moment, hooked his cane around a dogwood tree, swung about and landed on Clockwerk's back with ease. He dipped the crook of his cane into Clockwerk's metallic throat, holding onto the handle like reigns. With every ounce of raw emotion, Conner tensed up and shouted at the top of his lungs. The cane shined with incandescence and raw negative energy surged into the metal bird's body. With Conner sitting on its back, touching the metal outer hull, a circuit was completed, creating a loop with no resistance.

The raccoon grit his teeth and his adrenaline surged. His tongue felt numb, as did his legs but he held on for dear life, giving the metallic bird every raw volt, amp and watt he could muster. Conner thought back on every incident that led him here. The way he felt when his parents were missing, when he had to steal his own cane from Bentley's home; the way he felt when he found Rachel Razen on Dawn's floor… he recalled the time he was in a car accident and it caused the driver to die. He remembered his anger and distrust for Boris, the anger and shame at his defeat to Jasper Cunningham three years ago… he remembered how he felt when he woke up and found that his family was missing and presumed dead. He pictured the clone of his mother, lying on the floor by the elevator with a broken neck. He focused all of his raw, negative energy, hatred and emotional turmoil on Clockwerk.

An ionic vortex of immeasurable power emanated from Conner's body, swirling around the enormous metallic avian. Bolts and flashes of lightning arced outwards in all directions, drawing energy from nearby power conduits, lampposts, and cars out on the street in front of City Park… Conner's fur stood up on end as the energy surged through him and into Clockwerk's frame.

Steam rose up from his body and condensation beaded up on Clockwerk's hull as internal component cooling systems worked overtime to keep the metal from overheating. Conner stopped worrying about the plan, about Bruce's virus… about everything. His emotional focus was now to fry the hardware inside his enemy. His body ached. His muscles, his joints… he hurt worse than when he tried working out shortly after waking up last spring.

But the adrenaline felt amazing. He felt sharp, clearheaded and even as his mind raced through all the memories, Conner felt like he was aware of everything around him all at once. It was a level of acuity he'd never experienced before. His heart ached from the sad memories but there was a positive driving force behind all of it that kept him going. Rescuing his family, finding Dawn and rekindling his relationship with her… everything that _could have_ gone wrong turned around and worked out for the best. He knew in the back of his mind that Dawn and his family watched his every action; he wanted to impress them. He wanted their admiration and to hear their praise. He wanted that ego-boosting acceptance; it gave him the determination to pour every ounce of himself into this attack.

Clockwerk began to roll, no longer in control of his avionics. The young Cooper teen unhooked his cane from Clockwerk's throat and snagged a tree in passing. The momentum caused him to swing around in a circle at a high rate of speed. Conner withdrew his hook from the tree and rolled through the matted grass, drenched in dew from the humidity in the air.

Conner came to his feet, slightly wet from the grass. A wisp of steam rose over his fur and clothes. He lifted his cane and approached Clockwerk's contorted frame, one wing up by its head, the other wing down by the metallic tail feathers. He lifted the base of the cane above Clockwerk's right eye and drove it down into the optical sensor, breaking through the tempered material used to cover the lens. Surprisingly, Clockwerk recoiled its head as if the attack brought pain. While the base of the cane was still inside the owl's head, Conner charged the staff with a smirk.

The metallic head reared back, pulling Conner from the ground. He tucked his knees up beneath himself then put his feet on the side of Clockwerk's head for stability as the owl whipped about in an attempt to shake off the raccoon. "YOU WILL DIE!" roared the machine.

"You first," murmured Conner without even realizing it. He continued to channel raw energy into the cane in an attempt to damage Clockwerk's internal hardware.

Clockwerk flitted about for a moment then drove its head into the grass. Conner held tight, now being driven into the soft, moist ground. Suddenly a roar of sound filled the air and flashes of what looked like lightning came up out of the ground. Conner found himself pressed against the underground wiring that ran beneath the park to a large fountain about two hundred feet away.

Sparks flew in all directions as Conner channeled the underground electrical conduit and fed all the raw energy into Clockwerk's body. The ground shook lightly. Bruce, Carmelita and Sly came out from their hiding spot, hurrying across the park towards the crater, where Clockwerk's head was half buried in the ground like a metallic ostrich.

"Conner!" shouted his mother. She hurdled a bush, making a beeline for her son. Bruce and Sly were hot on her heels. Upon approach, she had to shield her eyes with her left paw from the brilliant incandescence of Conner's ongoing attack from his pinned position.

Sly flanked the side of the crater and quickly wedged his cane down to pry Clockwerk's head from his son's body. Electricity raced up into his cane, deadened by the wooden staff but it still caused his body to shake. Bruce came alongside of Sly, helping to add body weight for leverage.

Carmelita reached for her son's ankle but upon making contact with his leg, she was blown back onto her tail in the grass. She glanced over at Bruce and said, "We can't get to him; his body can obviously handle that sort of thing, ours can't. Get Clockwerk while he's down."

Bruce nodded and dashed around to the other side of Clockwerk's head. "Conner! Cease your attack so I can plug in the thumb-drive!" To his palpable relief, the electrical onslaught concluded. Bruce climbed down into the crater and reached his paw into Clockwerk's parted beak. He pushed the drive into a connection socket then drew his paw out quickly, just as the beak clamped shut. The raccoon's eyes widened, becoming instantly moist with tears.

Bruce glanced down at his right paw where a little more than half-an-inch was missing from his middle and ring fingers. The bloody tips were gooey with crimson; the liquid began running down his fingers, into his palm. Clockwerk suddenly jerked its head back, freeing Conner. The metallic beast flopped backwards onto its backside, kicking talon-tipped feet into the air. Bruce grit his teeth together for a moment then quietly said, "That was for my brother and sister-in-law, you miserable sonuvabitch."

Ports on the side of the machine opened, just as Bruce had hoped. Snakes slithered out. "What the…?" He tilted his head, watching curiously as the small slithering serpents made their way into the grass around Clockwerk's body. All at once, Clockwerk rolled over and leapt straight into the sky, leaving two large footprints in the grass. It flapped its wings and propelled itself straight up towards the ceiling of the dome.

Carmelita watched it ascend then frowned. "He's going to punch a hole right into the ocean… we'd better…" She paused, watching Clockwerk strike the glass. The dome appeared to crack somewhat but it held. Clockwerk dropped from the sky in a tailspin. "Sly, grab Conner. Bruce, c'mon!"

Sly picked his son up and threw the boy over his shoulder. He picked up both canes in his gloved palms and followed his wife and uncle out of the park. A moment later, Clockwerk struck the park fountain with a thunderous crash.

Bruce called over to his nephew, "Did you see the _snakes_ oozing out of Clockwerk's body?"

Sly offered a grimace. "Oh… did I leave that detail out, earlier? Don't get senile on me, old man; YOU were the one who pointed out the snake bite on my wrist, remember?" After a brief pause to catch his breath, he added, "Yeah… I thought it was weird, too."

"As I assumed, it must have been a booby-trap placed by Moreau to keep his trophy from being tampered with… My question is… how did Alester Crowell figure out how to power up Clockwerk without being able to access the hardware directly?"

Sly passed his son's two canes to Bruce as they ran. "I don't know and, right now, I'm more concerned with getting to that penthouse lifeboat yacht." After another brief pause, he added, "Is that blood?"

"Yes, it is." Bruce passed the Nehushtan to his left paw then reached for the family cane. One end was touching Conner's arm as Sly passed it over. Once it met with Bruce's bloody right palm, Sly and Bruce were shocked, bringing all three to the ground.

Carmelita turned around and hurried back to them. Bruce sat up first, quick to notice that his paw was smoking lightly. His wound had been cauterized and he struggled, as did Sly, to regain his equilibrium and motor skills. "Conner's still charged. But he's not grounded, Sly; don't touch anyone else while you're holding him. We just completed a circuit." His words were muddled because his tongue was numb.

The fountain collapsed into the ground, as if swallowed up in a sinkhole. Clockwerk and the Cooper family dropped into an underground bunker below the park. As the dust began to clear somewhat, Carmelita shouted, "Is everyone okay?"

"I'm okay," said Sly, with Bruce speaking overtop with a similar sentiment.

Conner groaned, trembling with stored energy. His fur stood on end and his tail was fluffed up. "I'm… okay. God, my head hurts though."

"Hello?" asked a new voice. "Conner?"

The young Cooper waved a paw, trying to clear the floating dust particles.

Carmelita murmured, mostly to herself, "That voice is familiar. Seems like I heard it just a day or two ago"

The younger raccoon perked up an ear and said, "For _me_, it's been a few months since I've heard it. But I've _not_ forgotten it." He sat up in the rubble with another groan, adding, "That's Thomas Gerard." He took a slow breath through his teeth then said, "Where are you? Don't think I didn't know that you're a backstabber."

Thomas' voice was humble. "Then you probably also know that I chose to repent and I've changed my allegiance. Conner, I hear all of you but… where are you and what just happened?"

"I think," Sly trailed off with a grunt, getting to his feet and checking his joints for any sign of injury, "I think the damn park collapsed from the way Clockwerk struck the ground. Must have been too much for the underground support beams to handle. The pipes are broken; this place is starting to flood. I'm soaked. Where are you, Gerard?"

"I've been a prisoner down here for three years. Try and follow the sound of my voice."

Carmelita felt a strong paw beneath her right arm. She waved away the miasma of dust, coughing from the dry taste of dirt on her tongue; she turned to face Bruce and offered him a brief smile then felt around until finding her husband.

Meanwhile, Conner got to his feet and followed the bear's voice until coming face to face with the man. He quirked a brow, then looked around. "Are we… am _I_ in your cell with you?" He began to feel around to find the bars.

"It seems the concrete backwall of the cell came down with the ceiling. The rest of your family appears to have landed in the hallway that ran parallel, behind my prison. Let's just get out of here. I've been sitting here, wondering what the hell was going on out there. I've not seen Moreau in two weeks, I've not seen any guards in the last day and I'm starting to get hungry. Then the whole city starts shaking on and off… when the ceiling started to cave, I thought it was because the city couldn't handle the shaking from earlier. I can't believe you guys found me; I can't begin to explain how glad I am to have heard your voices."

"Cut the crap," snapped Carmelita. "We'll take you with us but I still hold a grudge, Gerard." She approached the sound of the bear's voice, carefully stepping over the crumbled wall at the back of the man's prison. The dust continued to clear up until everyone could see each other.

Sly rubbed his eyes, red and irritated from the dirt in the air. "Where's Clockwerk?"

Bruce examined his bloody finger. Only the tip was missing, fingernail and all. "Clockwerk is here with us. He… _it_ seems to be powered down for the time being. Conner really did a number on that thing."

"Did you find anyone else?" asked Thomas. "I believe most of the team was captured. I'm sure they're here. There was a rumor that some escaped to the surface."

"Yeah," murmured Sly. "Winthrop, the 'Analytical Scientist', and his _wife_, Karla, made it out and got married. They even had a kid."

Thomas blinked. "The crazy lady from the tube in Prague?"

The vixen snorted. "Yeah, that's her; good description. She's been one of our best allies this time around. Can we count on you, Gerard? I'll have you know that Moreau is dead – your benefactor won't be cutting you any more checks."

"He's not paid me in three years; he's kept me in this prison. He also has Chris Grapping here."

Carmelita quirked a brow. "Who?"

"He's the guy who took Conner and company to Riverview, where Jasper Cunningham attacked everyone."

Conner shook his head. "No, that guy died." A pause, then, "He was shot before he even got out of the car."

Thomas shook his head. "No, Jasper's team managed to resuscitate Grapping; they saved his life. But Jasper was _pissed_ that Chris led your team to Riverview, Conner. So… after his arrest, he was sent _here_. He was here when I arrived to this prison." Thomas crossed his cell, placed his paws on the bars and called to another cell across the way. "Chris, get up." Silence. "Chris?"

Conner squeezed his lithe body between the bars and into the hallway opposite of where the fountain collapsed. He approached another set of bars and squeezed through them. A canine lay on his cot in silence. The young Cooper gave the man a gentle shake then checked for a pulse. "He's… he's uh… he's dead." He squinted in the dim illumination. With his paw on the man's neck, Conner inadvertently discharged his pent up energy into the canine's body. It caused the man's fingers to curl up and the body to seize. The dead man's head lulled to the side and a chicken bone dropped from his muzzle.

Conner backed away slowly. "I uh… I think he choked to death some time ago. Chicken bone, I think. He's still warm but… not… not really _warm enough_. It could have happened when the place started shaking earlier, I don't know, but he's dead."

Gerard sighed. "Living through a bullet to the chest only to die on a chicken bone. …So long "Brutus". Conner, I'm sorry you had to see that up close. After all, you're still just a minor and with everything going on, it must be pretty hard on you."

"I'm going to be turning eighteen in ten days," replied Conner in a sharp voice. "Look, let's just get out of here." He returned to Thomas's cell, took the bear by the wrist and charged towards the back end. He approached his father and said, "Give me a boost, pops."

Sly held his paws out, Conner stepped into his father's palms, and Sly helped push his son upwards. Conner climbed up into the park, lifting his head at a sound of feet marching in the street. "Aw man," he muttered, seeing a group of soldiers approaching in the distance. "Incoming badguys, everybody. Get ready."

"I hate to say this," Carmelita grumbled, "But I wish Karla was here to help with these guys." She got a boost from Bruce, who lifted her up with surprising ease. She leapt to the crumbling edge of the sinkhole, pulling herself up on a half-exposed tree root. Conner reached for her wrist, helping her to her feet. Both mother and son turned to face the incoming soldiers. "Where do these guys keep coming from? Let me handle them."

Carmelita held her paws upwards, gesturing for the approaching men to stop. "You're contaminating a crime scene. I've brought down Clockwerk; I need you boys to fall back to provide covering fire if the subject tries to flee. Right now, the damn thing is unresponsive and I have the situation under control so… just… fall back for now." A pause, then, "Go on. Move!" She tilted her head. "What are you boys just standing there for?" Carmelita's eyes widened, seeing a sergeant reach for his sidearm. The other soldiers lifted their rifles to bear. "What the _HELL_ do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed.

The sergeant grimaced, defying his former boss. "Enforcer Fox, we've had several men tell us, over the radio, that you're leading the escape from Atlantis. The rest of us have been trying to find a way to drill back to Lower Atlantis and rescue Doctor Moreau. You've left him down there and now you're impeding our attempts at a rescue operation."

"You MORON," said Carmelita, glowering at the sergeant in a menacing way. "I was down there, earlier!" Her eyes narrowed. "I saw him take his last breath. This city can't take much more abuse and I've been charged with enforcing _and_ protecting this city's people. So YES, I condone the goddamn evacuation plan! Now get your butts across the street and cover me or get your asses on a life boat. Make your choice but I'm busy right now and don't have time to be bothered by an ignorant plan, devised by uninformed people who think Moreau is still alive."

The sergeant flipped the safety switch on his pistol and cocked the hammer. "No, ma'am. Moreau found a way to make contact with us less than fifteen minutes ago. We _all_ heard it over our radios. He said the _real_ Enforcer Fox was with him at the bottom of the elevator shaft. I'm… I'm not sure how there can be two of you but… we heard him clearly and we plan to rescue him. And if you're not the real Enforcer Fox, then you're just some cheap knockoff."

The vixen clenched her fists. "Why you little…!" She lunged for the sergeant's throat.

Time appeared to slow down to a crawl for Conner. He hyper-focused on his surroundings. His eyes cut over to the group of soldiers, whose trigger fingers began to press inward on the triggers. Conner threw his arms apart, using his right paw to push his mother away with an electro-kinetic blast. With his left paw, he summoned a surge of energy. Without thinking about his next move, he wasn't sure of his own actions. His left paw began to glow and, at the back of his mind, he wondered what was about to happen.

His body flinched before his mind registered the sound of gunshots. A wall of transparent light, emanating from his left palm, shielded the couple from gunfire. Rounds disintegrated against the wall of light, leaving ripples in the electrified field. Time resumed its normal rhythm; bullets pelted the force field without penetrating it.

Conner's ears perked, hearing a voice over the radio. It was gruff and familiar. "Tell that little prick of a light bulb that he owes me one _billion_ dollars. Then kill him!" Young Cooper widened his eyes, realizing that it was Boris (_Chapter 26_).

He thrust his right paw through the field, snagged the sergeant's radio receiver from the man's shoulder, and depressed the button. "Listen up, you sonuvabitch, it's about time you join your buddy that you killed back in Ethiopia. Simon Lancaster, was it? I'm going to hunt you down the way I hunted down Moreau. I'm going to kill you the way my father killed Moreau's clone. I'm going to rip you apart the way I just manhandled Clockwerk fifteen minutes ago. Show yourself, you piece of crap." Conner released the transmit button then took the sergeant by the scruff of his neck and pulled him into the field, electrocuting the man.

Boris' voice came back over the radio in a chiding voice. "The _real_ Moreau is still alive and I'm heading up the rescue operation." The lynx paused briefly. "But first… Men! KILL THEM ALL!"

The soldiers fanned out, trying to flank Conner to get around his field. Conner put his other hand out, creating two walls. Carmelita, Bruce and Sly moved in close to help protect him on the two sides where his paws couldn't shield. Thomas Gerard grit his teeth and said, "We need to come to amends here. We can finish this later else we're all going to die." He pointed upwards.

Boris and a few of his men glanced up, quick to note the crack at the top of the dome.

"I'm sure you're just full of shit," Conner sneered. "Moreau is dead. I ran my staff through him and my Uncle Bruce found it and pulled it out. If Moreau was still alive, he would have seen something to back up your claim."

"I can prove it and you're all staying put until I do." Boris pulled out a radio transmitter and spoke into it. "Doctor M., this is Boris. I have the Cooper family at gunpoint. Respond with orders when possible." He released the thumb switch on the side of the radio and said, "You'll have to give him a few moments… he's trying to help the _real_ Enforcer Fox. It seems someone pushed her down a three mile elevator shaft. Someone from your crew. So, for now, we wait while he decides your fate."

* * *

X-

_**Fifteen minutes ago…**_

**Carmelita's eyes** opened slowly. She grunted and tried to sit up only to have strong large hands ease her back. She brought her head up, looking at Doctor Alphonse Moreau. His clothes were saturated with blood. She continued up onto her left elbow and asked, "What happened?"

A sigh passed his lips. The doctor frowned and said, "My heart stopped briefly after being pierced with a gold cane. You're healing after falling sixteen thousand feet. So far, all your bones have mended themselves but it will take some time for the nerves and tendons to be repaired."

"I don't feel anything. No pain, just a little queasiness in my stomach. We're trapped in Atlantis?" she asked, looking around with a frown.

"Not exactly," said Moreau. "Bruce Cooper escaped through the main power conduit that goes up into the upper city. I theorize that's how Cooper's grandson got down here, earlier. "You're small enough to get through there as well. Then you can come back for me."

"So now you're admitting that I'm nothing but a clone? An illegally made…"

She thought about the right word to say but trailed off and remained quiet after that.

"My dear, I fear I've misled you in order to keep things simple. I had no intent on lying to you but a simple life is a far better one to have. Trust me."

"What else have you lied about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Conner Cooper is my _son_ you dishonest bastard. The son of my … for lack of a better word… my doppelganger."

"Yes, Carmelita. He's your son." He eased back onto his haunches. Carmelita sat the rest of the way up, quickly, then suddenly turned her head and threw up. She ejected blood onto the ground the spit several times in an attempt to get the salty metallic taste out of her mouth. "You see?" said Moreau. "That's why I kept you from sitting up too quickly. That's why I kept your life simple by withholding the truth. To make things easier on you. Surely when you perished in the fall, an hour ago, your stomach ruptured. It filled with blood then you healed and came back to life. Now you're just spitting out what was in your digestive tract. You'll be fine in no time."

"You broke the law and you lied to me. About several things. You've kept those prisoners and kept people frozen against their will… and now I understand why." She noted his expression then sighed. "Same team. Where is the conduit? I'll head to the surface."

Moreau's stern glance softened and he pointed to the west. "Out in that intersection, my dear. You'll need Crowell's drill. It will cause tectonic quaking but don't be alarmed. It's simply using sound pulses to drill a hole into the ground."

"Crowell? Don't we have him locked up in the secondary jail below Central Park?"

"Indeed," replied the doctor with a nod. "It was a souvenir from Russia, where he lived (Chapter1), testing his devices, where he unsuccessfully attempted to market his technology to shady investors. The man is no saint, trust me. He needed to be jailed. Needless to say, he DID invent the drill we needed to reach Atlantis without destroying it. By using sound, we were able to drill straight to the hidden city without harming it; the drill worked like a sonar and once it broke through the surface into the ceiling of this city, it deactivated… thus preserving Atlantis. Yes, I took his machine by force but I let him live because I am not an evil man. I am simply driven to save the world."

"Indeed," she repeated back to him. "I'll be on my way to the surface now. Thank you for finally being honest with me. Now, I'd better hurry as I have my work cut out for me."

"Boris is up there. Last I heard from him, he'd located the Cooper group and was able to round up several guards who hadn't yet fled."

She snorted in disdain. "Boris? That man is trouble. I don't know why you place so much trust in him."

"He gets things done; he's highly motivated. But he'll need your help."

"Fine, I'm going." She turned about then stormed off. Enforcer Fox found the thickest conduit in the city jus where he'd said it would be. She opened a maintenance hatch on the side, just above the air circulation and light mechanism. She climbed up into it and began climbing the ribbed interior, which acted like a ladder. She knew that three miles was a long way to go by ladder but the gravity changed once she was inside, so it felt more like crawling, which made the sensation of falling nearly non-existent.

The crawling lasted twenty minutes, although it felt like longer. Motivated by emotion, fueled by Alphonse's revelation, Carmelita made her way up to an empty sewer line and immediately noticed the interior walling. While illuminated, it was also cracked. She followed the tunnel until there were missing blocks from the walls. The tunnel opened up to a large square section and against the wall immediately to her left was a ladder. She ascended it and heaved the manhole cover away then looked around. The park wasn't far.

She knelt beside a fallen guard and took his weapon from its holster. She still lacked a sensation of pain in her body and wondered if that was how Javari Ahma felt leading up to Moreau's brain surgery a few months ago. She came to an intersection and saw Boris across the street with a group of armed guards, all pointing their weapons at Sly Cooper and his family. They were separated from their friends, who were across the street in a large group. Javari Ahma was among the secondary group, along with her Russian boyfriend, Sergei. Also, Jing King was with them, Bentley, Murray, Thomas Gerard, a girl with knives on her belt and an unconscious wolfdog next to her. Winthrop was also there, along with the white-furred hybrid in his arms, also unconscious. They were all at gunpoint. Dawn was among the second group, standing next to Keri Tiikeri.

Enforcer Fox crossed the street and approached Boris from behind. One of the soldiers immediately saluted her. She nodded in return then said, "Boris, I'll take over from here."

"No! They're going to pay; half of the group sabotaged the repulser beam audio drill!" He cocked the weapon.

"Stand down," she snapped in reply. She watched in surprise as he brought his gun to Conner's head and thumbed the hammer back. She approached Boris from behind and said, "We need them alive."

"Shut _up_!" he cried, grinding the metal barrel against Conner's forehead. "Time to die, your girlfriend is next kid, followed by your FAMILY!" A gunshot rang out, nearly deafening everyone in the immediate area.

Boris widened his eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder, saying, "How dare you interfere?" He noted that she had her gun aimed forward. His brows furrowed in confusion, wondering who she was shooting at. All at once, Boris dropped to the ground.

Enforcer Carmelita Fox lifted her weapon to a ninety-degree angle and blew a wisp of smoke from the barrel. "Screw you, scumbag." She then lifted her voice to the others. "We're ALL getting out of here, alive, together! That's an ORDER. I'm going to destroy this place in any way possible. Boris was lying to you; Doctor Moreau is dead." She turned to the secondary group and called to Bentley, "Wiseturtle, I'll need your assistance in ridding the world of this… lie. This… abomination of a city. NOW."

Bruce cleared his throat. "We've already run a program. This city will launch itself into orbit and beyond. We don't have long."

Enforcer Fox nodded. "Perfect." She then turned to Carmelita Cooper and offered a weak smile. "You were pretty good in that fight, earlier. I respect you and you were right… about everything. I'm sorry I doubted you. I should know better than to doubt …myself."

One of the soldiers approached her. "Enforcer Fox, what's going on here? We overheard Moreau's voice on the radio."

Fox smirked. Since everyone else had lied to her up to this point, she decided it was the only way to fix the situation. "Boris wanted to take over by giving false hope. You would have followed him down to Atlantis where he would have retrieved the artifacts and then he would have assumed control. It was a lie. Let's get out of here. It's all over. Get to the lifeboats. I'll follow these people to the penthouse yacht and see them off."

"See them off…? You're not going with them?"

"Someone has to make sure this place goes where it's supposed to go. I'm an abomination. Clones are illegal. Don't worry, I'll bail out at the last minute, okay? Just go. I want to be the last one on this thing to make sure the city is clear. That's my job and it's all I have left." She made a gesture and the soldiers took off in a brisk run. She turned back to Carmelita Cooper and her family. "I'm sorry. After talking to Alphonse, I realized you were right. I suppose I got a little emotional; I don't like being lied to. So… this is the best way I know how to hurt him. Once this place takes off, the conduit tunnels will tear and water will flood in. I don't know if it will preserve Atlantis or destroy it… but… if Atlantis caused all the problems up on the surface then it needs to be destroyed or hidden away forever."

"I agree," said Conner, adding, "But we actually took all the artifacts. Steven is going to help us disperse them to the far corners of the globe."

"I don't know anyone named Steven but… fair enough. And I know you took the artifacts. I told a lie. I figured… when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Now let's get out of here!"

"You don't have to tell ME twice," said Carmelita Cooper with a smirk.

"I have to wonder if the world is prepared for _two_ Carmelitas'," said Sly with a slight grin.

"Hush," said his wife. She then shouted to the approaching group. "All of you, get your tails up to that penthouse level _now_! I want this place to flood or explode before Clockwerk comes to his senses!"

Kalen began ushering everyone forward. "We all need to hurry."

Eric waved his paws apart, using his shadows to clear a path so that the overturned cars and chunks of concrete in the street were swept aside. The entire group headed towards the large building a few blocks away.

"This is going to suck," murmured Karla, still in Winthrop's arms. "I know what's expected of me. I can't teleport all of us to the top floor. I'm going to have to take groups of three, several stories at a time. It's not going to be easy."

Bentley chimed in. "Not to mention those attack droids."

Enforcer Fox sighed. "I'll be honest… once they're active, it takes several authorization codes to deactivate them. They're not going to be easy to beat. And having too many cooks in the kitchen isn't going to help because the hallway is too narrow between the stairwell and the observatory wrap-around on the penthouse floor."

Jing King coughed into a paw. "Could Karla…" she paused, realizing she was referring to the hybrid felox in the third person. She turned to Winthrop's wife and asked, "couldn't you just teleport us through that door and into the penthouse yacht?"

Karla frowned. "I don't know the layout inside that room. I don't want anyone getting stuck in a wall or inside of a piece of furniture, or vice versa. It's too dangerous."

"I see," murmured Jing. "Then we must fight. I understand that Kalen and Bentley couldn't defeat them, earlier, even with Murray's help. This won't be easy."

Murray smiled a bit. "We just need our best players to clear the path."

Javari nodded in agreement. "Kalen, Eric, Karla and Enforcer Fox since she's apparently unable to die. The rest of us will take the stairs, so that Karla can teleport the one group to the top in order to fight the sentries. That way she's not exhausted. By the time they finish taking out those blasted robots, the rest of us will be at the top and ready to leave. I don't even care to figure out the math for success… I just… I have faith that Kalen, Eric and Karla can get the job done."

Conner lifted a paw. "Hey, wait a second… I'm the one that can fry technology. I should go. Alone."

"At least let ME help you. I'll teleport you up there," said Karla. "And I won't take no for an answer. Kalen and Eric can protect the rest of the group and make sure they make it to the Penthouse safely. God knows if there are any of those sentry things in the stairwell. Then we'll have covered our bases."

Ahma nodded. "It's a good plan. Conner _does_ have the ability to combat technology very well."

"No arguments here," said Conner's mother much to the surprise of everyone else. She saw her daughter open her mouth to argue but Carmelita lifted a paw to Carmen and smiled somewhat. "Not a word. Your brother _does_ have the ability. He threw Clockwerk around like a ragdoll. None of us could do that. It's his time to shine. It's up to the rest of us to survive."

Sly offered his wife a smile. "I'm proud of you for cutting the apron strings."

"Hush, you." Carmelita winked at her husband, despite smirking.

Dawn approached Conner and took his paw into hers. "Listen, a lot has happened lately. I love you. I just found out today that I'm adopted; God only knows who my real family is. But I really feel like we have a future together. Don't go messing it all up by dying, okay?"

Conner put his free paw on her cheek and turned her face directly to himself then kissed her. Everyone else seemed to walk around them. Karla teleported from her husband's arms and appeared standing behind Conner. She patted both Dawn and Conner on the top of their heads. "That's the way to do it, kiddo. Show her you care instead of always just telling her." She leaned her head in as if trying to inspect the technique of their liplock. Conner slipped his right paw out of Dawn's left and put his palm flat against Karla's face, pushing her away then he casually draped his right arm around Dawn, deepening the kiss.

Enforcer Fox looked back at them and sighed softly, almost as if slightly jealous of their love. "Hey, guys, break it up. We don't have much time and if you treat this like your chance for a goodbye kiss, you might be jinxing yourself to a long goodbye. C'mon, we have work to do. The best is yet to come."

* * *

X-

A/N: _OKAY! I just need to write the climatic part and the epilogue. _

_See? Conner and Dawn aren't blood relatives after all. Wshew! xD _

_OR ARE THEY? j/k_

_Finally, an update to this chapter. Now I just have to get everyone out! That's a lot of people, y'know? I'm sorry I've been away so much as of late. Lots going on. But I'm gunna finish this story and that's that! lol. Anyhow, is anyone still out there? Anyone still reading? Are you ready for the conclusion? Tell me what you think! AND STUFF!  
_

_See you soon! :D_

_-ME_


	37. Chapter 37 and Epilogue

Chapter -37-

**Nineteen people**. Sly and Carmelita Cooper, Conner and Carmen, and Bruce O'Coop. Dawn and Kalen, Bentley, Murray, Jing, Winthrop and Karla Weasel. Javari Ahma, Sergei Gurlukovich, Keri Tiikeri, Thomas Gerard, Elvena and Erik… and, bringing up the end of the line was Enforcer Carmelita Fox. The large group made their way into the lobby of Doctor Moreau's towering skyscraper. Conner turned to Karla and said, "I'm ready to do this. I'm not afraid; I'm ready to finish this so I can go home and relax."

"Amen to that," said Karla. She cracked her knuckles and kissed her husband. "Keep them moving and out of trouble. Kalen and Erik are competent fighters; use them if trouble comes up, okay?"

"Relax," said Winthrop. "No one is dying. Donovan isn't going to be an orphan. We're _all_ going home."

Thomas checked a handgun he picked up in the street. He was still drying it with his shirt. "I bet it's going to be a pain getting home. Proving you're alive to the banks and government and the department of motor vehicles… but I can't wait to get back, too. I'm ready."

Conner snorted. "Yeah, ready to spend that blood money you collected from Moreau. Three years of interest tacked on; I bet you're excited."

Thomas sighed, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. "I spent three years in a cell. Unlike Sergei, no one came to visit. It was a very, _very_ long time for me. Like you guys, I just want to go home. Go back to work. Get back to having a normal life."

Conner hugged his mother and sister together. He reached his arms around them both but slipped his right paw into his father's and shook. "I love you guys. You'd better be right behind me. I don't want to lose you again. Karla and I will make quick work of those things, whatever they are. Just be ready to get in that lifeboat thing."

"You remember what I promised if we all get home safely," Dawn murmured.

Conner released his folks and turned to his girlfriend with a grin. "A fantastic relationship. You won't regret it, sweetheart." He cupped either side of her face, kissed her briefly then turned to Karla. "I'm ready."

Murray patted Conner on the back. "Good luck, lil' guy."

Keri hugged her friend, gingerly, and said, "You're one hell of a team leader. When all this blows over, I'll still be around. Go get'em Conner."

Conner stopped in his tracks and looked closer at Tiikeri's arm. "Why are you bleeding? It's starting to show through your shirt."

She offered a lopsided grin. "I got stabbed during a fight. I'm a tiger. I've had worse. It happened hours ago; I'm not one to complain. Well, okay I am, but after taking a knife in the leg when we flew into India… well, I stopped complaining about stuff like this."

Kalen cleared his throat. "If things get thick, call out for Mister Poliandro. You'll need his assistance." He turned to Keri and added, "Those wounds may get infected if you do not take care of them soon. I suggest salt water once you clean them out with alcohol or peroxide."

Bentley shifted the bag full of artifacts from his shoulder, handing them off to Murray. "Conner, you're the only person who managed to defeat my security system. You'll do just fine. But do me a favor… don't get carried away because you might damage the lifeboat's life support systems… technically it's a Captain's Yacht life capsule. Big enough for all of us, though, if my calculations are correct."

"And I hear they always are," said Javari with a grin. She smiled at Conner. "Like Keri said… go get'em."

Sergei took Conner's paw and shook it. "Knock 'em dead, tovarich. Let's get home so I can take you out for another fun ride in my Shelby Cobra."

Karla waved her paws for everyone to back up. "Okay, okay! He's ready to kick ass." She turned to Conner and put a paw on his shoulder. "Let's get to it then, huh? I wanna get home to my son."

"Wait, I might be able to help shut down those systems!" Enforcer Fox reached forth and took Conner by the forearm. Without further warning, Karla disappeared, taking Conner and Carmelita Fox with her. The other sixteen people headed for the stairwell.

x-

* * *

**"I feel sick,"** murmured Enforcer Fox. "I think it's from teleporting."

"It's in your head, then. My abilities don't mess with your bodily functions," Karla said with a snort of indignation, as if insulted by the Enforcer's presence. "I know your fighting style now, so I could best you this time. Don't make me whip your tail."

"Will you two stop?" Conner ran his fingers back through his hair then withdrew his family's cane. "Where are the robots?"

Carmelita looked around at the empty hall. "I see scratch marks on the floor and walls. They were here. They must have gone back to their charging bases." She turned to Karla and sneered. "I'd flatten you if you tried anything. You don't have Winthrop to save you this time."

"Listen up, bitch, and take some notes okay? You tricked me once, but you won't trick me again with that little stun grenade crap." Karla cracked her knuckles. "It's just as well that those sentry things aren't here."

"Listen, I'm risking my neck to help you guys out. If you're going to be ungrateful, I'll stomp your tail and save everyone else."

"Try it, sister." Karla rolled her sleeves up.

Carmelita drew her left paw back, fingers balled up in a tight fist. "Let's rumble, then."

Conner stepped between them but they ignored him and started to come at one another. His temper flared immediately. Conner threw his paw outwards and shocked Karla, throwing her to the floor. With his other paw, he grabbed Carmelita's elevated wrist, inadvertently putting charge directly into her body. "ENOUGH! SAME TEAM, okay?"

Carmelita Fox's fur stood on end. She began to tremble. Conner drew his paw back from her forearm then winced when she turned away and abruptly threw up on the floor. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he trailed off, watching her for a moment.

The vixen dropped to her knees, dry-heaving. Her body reeked of adrenaline and she began sweating profusely. "Look out!" cried Karla from behind. Conner lifted his eyes, seeing one of the sentries come around the corner, heading towards Carmelita. His eyes widened and he picked his cane up from the ground, having dropped it when trying to separate the girls.

The machine, hovering three feet off the ground, accelerated towards Carmelita. Charged with adrenaline, she suddenly lifted her head and closed her paws around the hull of the machine in an attempt to ward it off. Four more sentries came around the corner at the other end of the hallway. Conner and Karla jumped into the fray.

Karla teleported one and caused it to reappear in front of another, facing the other direction so that they both collided. Conner charged his cane, ran up along the wall then jumped back towards the incoming sentry bots. He brought his cane down, connecting with a target; all of his stored current rushed from the cane and into the robotic contraption. It hit the ground, rolled several times and came to a stop, smoking from the seams.

Karla used a telekinetic blast to drive the fourth sentry through the wall, another wall, a third wall and out the side of the building. Only designed to hover a few feet off the ground, the fourth sentry began to fall several dozen stories.

Conner spun about, striking the second sentry and sent it sailing into the third. His electrical strike put a great amount of raw energy into the unit, which was transferred to the third unit when they collided like billiard balls. Both sentries struck the wall and fell to the floor, smoking like the other one he attacked.

Karla took a deep breath then sighed in content. "The trick is to keep them from getting close." She turned to face Carmelita then gasped. "Conner!"

He turned back towards Enforcer Fox and quirked his brows in confusion. She was sitting next to the first sentry, looking confused and upset about something. Conner and Karla approached her cautiously. The vixen looked up with moist eyes then back down at the sentry in front of her. It was frozen solid, encased within a block of ice. Upon further inspection, a wisp of evanescence surrounded Carmelita's paws.

"What… did I just miss?" asked Karla in a soft voice.

"What's wrong with me?" asked Carmelita weakly. "I did this… I turned it to ice. How did I do that?"

"That's not normal," said Karla.

Carmelita put her paw against the wall, trying to get to her feet. When she did, she left a frozen paw print on the wall. "What did Moreau do to me? I've never had this happen before. But I only just learned that I can regenerate after an injury. And now… _this_? I didn't want this! I didn't want any of this nonsense. I'm some sort of freak now."

Karla frowned. "Can you control it? Can you turn it off before you accidentally freeze something else besides that drone thing and the wall?"

"I don't know how!" Carmelita exclaimed. "I don't want this!"

The door at the other end opened and Javari Ahma peered through. She saw Carmelita Fox on her knees half-way up the hall and approached with everyone else out in the stairwell. Thomas Gerard followed her into the hall, looking to remain cautious. Javari looked at Conner and Karla then back to her former boss. "What happened to her?"

"We're not sure," said Karla. "I'm not sure if she's injured or if the gene splicing mutations given to her by Moreau are starting to manifest."

"She seems to be in pain," Conner added.

Javari smirked. "She deserves to know pain." She approached Enforcer Fox and said, "This is karma, lady. Remember how you treated me? Do you?"

Fox looked up with tears in her eyes. "I didn't want this."

Thomas glanced back at Carmelita Cooper in the doorway then towards Carmelita Fox again. "What's wrong with her hands? Why are they smoking?"

"Back off, Gerard," said Fox in a raspy voice.

Thomas growled in irritation. "You treated me like hell while I was your prisoner. You foul bitch, you're upset because you treated everyone like hell and now it's all coming back to you. I hope whatever Doctor M did to you turns out to be fatal. You _deserve_ to die!" His voice raised in volume at the end of his statement.

She trembled for a moment, as if trying to hold back her emotions. Thomas remained relentless despite Conner giving him a dirty look. The bear stepped in front of Javari in a protective way then continued to belittle the kneeling vixen. "What did you do to that machine? It's encased in ice. Is that what you do now? Seems fitting, since you were always the ice queen. I guess your heart is leaking. I hope you roll over and freeze yourself to death in your sleep. I, for one, will be _glad_ when you're gone. Why don't you do us all a favor and put your paws around your own throat right now!"

"NO!" Carmelita stood up and punched him in the gut with all of her pent up rage, guilt and sorrow. The large bear went spiraling back, hit the wall and slumped to the ground. By the time he hit the floor, his body was frozen solid. Enforcer Fox widened her eyes then glared down at her paws in horror. Her heart began to pound rapidly in her chest. The other fourteen people came through the doorway and crowded the hallway, trying to see what happened. Carmelita Fox choked on half-stifled sobs. "S-stay back. All of you. I… I don't know what I've done and I can't control it. Just st-stay the hell back."

Bentley knelt beside the frozen bear and checked for life signs. He touched the man's throat then withdrew his hand quickly because of how cold the bear was. The turtle pulled out a small scanner that was tucked away in the metallic thigh of his bionic right leg. He waved the scanner over Thomas' body then put the device back into its place. "I can't tell if he died from the shattered spinal column or from having his brain and organs frozen solid. But I'm sure it was very painful for about three seconds. He's gone." No one else spoke. "He froze solid and when he landed on his back, just a second later, part of his body shattered from the inside out. But it's all held together, encased in a thin yet durable shell of ice. She must have somehow frozen water particles in the air, plus a mammal's body is mostly made of water. It was quick, but like I said before, I doubt it was painless."

"Dios mio," said the Enforcer under her breath. "I just killed a man. I… I," she continued to stammer.

"Hey," Conner said. "Snap out of it. Grieve when we get out of here." He used his cane to take Fox by her bicep. He helped her to her feet then said, "Through the door at the end of this hall, right dad?"

Sly cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, the observatory. It's a glass room that surrounds the top floor." He eased through the crowd and took the lead. He opened the door at the far end and everyone followed, stopping to look out through the glass to take in the view of the city from high above. Water was starting to squirt in through a crack at the top of the dome left by Clockwerk. He turned away from the glass and said, "Okay, Enforcer… the city is on Lockdown Mode, so we can't get into the Penthouse without your eyes."

Fox silently moved to the retinal scanner and rubbed her face against her forearm to rid herself of tears. A moment later, the door swished open. "Everyone inside." Everyone made their way into the room except the two Carmelitas'. Cooper looked at Fox with a frown. "What?"

Carmelita Cooper shook her head. "You've had such a hard life here. I just wish you didn't have to suffer like this."

"Get in there." She pointed to the woman's family in the penthouse living room. "Go, now."

As soon as Carmelita Cooper stepped in, joining her loved ones and their friends, Enforcer Fox stepped in the doorway, arms folded. "I'm not going with you. I can't. I think I've been programmed to subconsciously obey Alphonse. I feel compelled to go back for him as he asked. I had to make sure the rest of you would get out of here, first… he never said I couldn't help you… but I DO have to go back for him because he asked me to come back and free him."

"Wait, we can help you," said Conner. "Don't be silly. If you stay, you'll die."

"I know. But someone has to stick around and make sure this place doesn't survive. Bruce," she shifted her eyes to O'Coop, "If you're right and this place goes into orbit then lower Atlantis will flood from the breathing and power conduits that are going from this city down to that one. He'll die and I'll either drown or be blown out into space. It doesn't matter. Clockwerk will be killed when this place falls into a decaying orbit because it will explode during atmospheric reentry. I'm sorry to everyone I've hurt. Javari, you're a good girl. Sergei, take care of her. I wish I could apologize to Gerard but…" She sighed with a shake of her head.

"Stop this nonsense," said Sly. "You're coming with us."

"Sly is right," said Carmelita Cooper. "You're a part of me. We'll accept you as family. Just get in here and close the door. C'mon."

Enforcer Fox shook her head then pulled the door shut and placed her paws against it. A shell of ice frosted over the door so that they couldn't reopen it from the inside. She could hear them pounding on the door from inside the Penthouse. Fox calmly walked to a computer control panel and spoke in a firm voice. "Recognize Carmelita Fox, Enforcer, Alpha, Romeo, Oscar, Oscar, Oscar. Perform emergency lifeboat launch, Penthouse Captain's Yacht. Set Coordinates for Florida; unlock manual controls once they reach the surface. Begin immediate separation sequence."

She stepped back, feeling the room begin to shake. Carmelita raced back into the long hallway, avoiding Thomas' body. She took to the stairway and hurried down, two steps at a time. The area continued to shake as the Penthouse lifepod separated from the top of the building. Exhaust from rocket boosters began to filter into the stairs, coming from above. She covered her face with the backside of her arm and continued to race down the stairwell. As the submersible yacht lifted above the city, flames and smoke filled the staircase, causing the paint on the handrails to bubble.

Fox waved her paws at the incoming booster exhaust in an instinctive manner. To her surprise, a wall of ice appeared. The intense heat began to circumvent the wall. She waved her paw all the way around herself, creating a bubble of ice to shield herself. The large round ball of ice began to slide down the steps, occasionally bouncing off the walls as it picked up speed in the stairwell.

Carmelita Fox felt her heart racing. The translucent ice shield allowed her a slight glimpse of the staircase as she rushed towards the first floor at break-neck speeds. The ice bubble slammed into the door leading out to the first floor lobby, splashing down in the seven inch water puddle on the floor. The ice shattered and she crashed into the door, then all went dark.

* * *

x-

**"Where is she?"** Conner said, watching through a window. He saw flames gushing from the windows of the top five floors of the skyscraper. "Dammit! I saw her die once; this is beyond acceptable!"

"Conner, please." Dawn placed a paw on his forearm. "Baby, she lived through _so_ much already. I'm sure she won't drown. You're talking about a broken neck, a three mile fall, fire and water… she's designed to regenerate. She'll be fine."

"Scant solace without being able to know for sure," he murmured with a sigh of defeat. "I'm glad the rest of you made it out, though. But I feel awful about Thomas. He helped me in the past. I know he was a scumball but he gave up his freedom and his money to try and make choices he could live with. He didn't deserve to be killed, especially from an accident without any sense of honor or meaning."

"I suppose you're right," said the boy's mother. "He didn't deserve a needless death… but he made his lot in life based on choices that were tied to bad karma. He has no one to blame but himself for what happened."

"You did well, Conner," said Carmen. "I owe you a home-cooked meal."

"Hard to complain with that, huh bud?" Sly offered his son a grin. "I know Carmen makes good Italian dishes." He got a look from his daughter and smiled in return.

Jing King placed a paw on Conner's shoulder. "You have every right to be proud of your work. Now I am able to see my father again. You're able to go home and relax. You've given all of us our lives back without asking anything in return."

"She's right," said Bentley. "Conner, because of you, I can go home to my wife. I just hope she hasn't moved on after three years."

Conner offered an almost shy grin. "I can promise you that Aunt Penelope hasn't moved on. She's the first person I contacted when I woke. In fact, she's in Florida waiting for us to come home."

"I look forward to finding my sister and making up with her," said Keri.

Sergei slipped an arm around Javari. "I look forward to getting married, tovarich."

"You're all invited," Ahma added with a bright grin.

Erik drew Eleven closer to himself. "We can have a normal life now," he murmured to her. She replied to him in dulcet tones but her words went unheard by the rest.

"So," Winthrop turned to his wife. "No separation, no divorce?"

"Yeah, I think we make a good team," Karla told her husband.

"Well that settles it," Murray announced. "Everyone is happy because Conner did an awesome job."

Bruce turned to his nephew and drew Sly into his arms. The two hugged. After a brief silence, the older gentleman said, "You raised the boy well. He was ready, thanks to you and your wife. Thanks to your team being around to help him. My brother never bonded with his team the way you did… so they weren't available to you the way Bentley and Murray are available to your son… You've started a new trend… Coopers that have a family-atmosphere with their team." He turned to Conner and said, "Keep this new tradition alive, young man. It's paid off. I'm sorry I haven't been around for several decades… but I have a lot to do and when we return to shore, I'll be taking my leave again before too long."

"I understand," said Sly.

"I have a lot to do, too," said Conner to his uncle. "I have to head back to Ethiopia and return the Nehushtan cane. I want to get an education and I want to date Dawn and help her find her half-sister." He grinned at his new girlfriend. She winked in return. "Plus I want to help Steven get those artifacts separated. That way I can relax." He glanced back to the porthole window. "I appreciate you guys changing the subject for me but I'm still worried about her."

The circular lifeboat reminded him of the "Captain's Yacht" from a fictitious starship on a TV show he liked as a kid. Conner glanced back at the brass plate on the wall, across the room, which read, "Captain's Yacht." Beneath, smaller words mentioned something about the date when it was built, its purpose and that it's an emergency escape pod. Conner shifted his gaze back to the window just as the yacht punched through the glass at the top of the dome. The shaking caused everyone to brace themselves.

Carmelita began pacing once they were clear of the dome ceiling. "I hope this damn thing is as sea-worthy as it is supposed to be. Without being tested and after being slammed through a glass dome that even Clockwerk couldn't directly penetrate… I just worry; don't mind me." She continued the pacing.

A gentle hum began. Bentley cleared his throat, gaining most everyone's immediate attention. "It appears that the propulsion system has become active." Without warning the submersible vessel listed and everyone spilled to the floor with a grunt or a gasp. Bentley pulled his glasses back to his face and looked over towards one of the portholes then exclaimed in shock. "C-crusher!" An enormous eye pressed against the window, peering in at the group of seventeen people.

Karla grit her teeth together. "I thought we fried that thing so it couldn't take commands from Monreau anymore!"

Dawn half-hid behind Conner as the lifeboat leveled out. "She's right, we shocked the antenna on its head, right?"

Conner approached the window and placed a paw against the glass. "Gee, a squid on a submarine. Where've I heard _this_ cheesy plotline before?" He grit his teeth then channeled raw energy into the metallic ring surrounding the porthole glass. The electricity channeled through to the outer hull, shocking Crusher in a sensitive area… his face.

The lifeboat listed again but quickly leveled itself. All at once, it broke the surface like an enormous fisherman's bobber. Everyone spilled to the carpeted floor again. Conner hurried back to his feet with his father and uncle on either side. Bruce cleared his throat. "Boys, we may need to go topside."

Sly craned his neck, peering through the window. "No sign of that thing. It looks to be raining pretty hard out there." His tone changed, showing a bit of excitement. "I see Dimitri's luxury yacht! It's darn close, too!" Sly blinked and drew his head back. "He just fired some sort of deck gun. I think he might be fighting Crusher. Let's go check it out."

"You'll need my help," said Karla from behind. "I won't take 'no' for an answer. So let's find the topside hatch for this place. Everyone spread out."

Eleven and Erik headed for the bedroom. Winthrop and Karla headed for the room where Carmelita Cooper's body had been stored earlier. Murray headed for the galley, Bentley headed for the utility room. Kalen began stomping his heel on the carpet, looking for a hatch hidden in the living room. He nudged a tattered sofa, riddled with bullet holes, and continued stomping his foot. Carmen's ears perked, as did her mother. Carmelita perked up and announced, "I think Kalen may have found something."

Sly passed between Javari, Sergei and Keri, withdrew his cane and used the hooked tip to tear at the carpet. Jing moved around to the other side of the sofa and pulled it the rest of the way to the nearest wall. Bruce took the carpet and pulled on it as Sly continued to tear a square shape into the floor. Carmelita approached a flat hatch and frowned. "No hinges; no clear way to access it."

Dawn began checking the walls until she found a control panel. She opened the small square door and skimmed the words until finding one that looked promising. She pressed a button and the door panel opened inwardly on unseen hinges.

Carmelita Cooper stuck her head down into the dark section and waited until her eyes adjusted. "Okay, everyone… This leads down into a sublevel that appears to have a way out. I see a small square section with water in it… I think it may go out beneath this thing. I see scuba gear that appears to be designed for a mandrill's body. Jing might be able to fit in it; Murray or Javari may be able to fit in the other."

Jing knelt besides Carmelita. "What is the plan, Mrs. Cooper?"

Carmelita kept her head inside the square hatch. "I think you should head for Dimitri's boat. Take Javari or Murray with you."

Keri placed a paw on Carmelita and Jing's shoulders. "I'm a tiger; I bet I could fit. Javari has a loved one, with whom she's recently become reunited. Murray should stay here just in case Crusher tries to stick a big ole' finger into this thing. He's a strong guy, he might be able to help in some way. Let me go."

Carmelita lifted her head and looked over Keri then nodded. "Okay, Jing and Keri… head for Dimitri's boat first. Don't look back for _anything_, just make a bee-line for his boat so we can tell him that all of us are all right. Then he can figure out how in the hell to get us out of here."

"Hon!"

Carmelita glanced back at her husband by the window. "What, babe?"

"I see a Coast Guard ship in the distance. It's headed this way." Sly gasped, a sound mirrored by everyone else, as the lifeboat listed again. Water came up over the hull, covering all the windows around the living room. "Everyone hold on!"

Carmen fell through a doorway with a scream followed by masculine laughter. She sat up in Murray's arms, glad that he caught her. Everyone else in the living room grabbed on to something or slid up against a bulkhead. Murray eased her to her feet as the boat evened out once more then floated back to the surface.

Carmelita scrambled to the window, opposite of Dimitri's boat. "What the…holy hell!"

"I found a surface hatch!" cried Bentley from another room. Carmelita, Sly and Conner all raced to the utility area to find Bentley sitting unceremoniously on his backside. "I found it when I fell… quite by accident I assure you. The ceiling hatch above me is so flush with the interior that I didn't realize it at first… then I fell and hit a half-hidden lever… look." He pointed to a square panel above them with a light blue LED track light that surrounded the panel. A light on the wall read, "Depressurizing." The light changed color on the panel and read, "Atmospheric air detected." Then the hatch slid open on unseen rails until it disappeared from their immediate view. A ladder lifted from the floor, ripping through carpet. It stopped in front of the hatch.

Conner was the first to ascend despite a glare from his mother. He made it to the top then shouted down to the rest. "The New Atlantis Dome just shot into the sky. At least I _think_ that's what it is!"

Carmelita and Sly came up next, followed by Bentley. Even Crusher, halfway between Dimitri's yacht and the life-yacht, paused to watch as a cylinder of water rose into the sky to partially conceal the city-sized dome, which launched into the stratosphere. Bentley cleared his throat into his fist. "I, uh, think that's why we shifted just a moment ago… the city must have hit us as it lifted upwards… we bounced off of it and flopped back into the sea. I hope Dimitri's ship is alright."

"Look!" Carmelita pointed over at Crusher, who abruptly disappeared into the ocean in a hurry, headed opposite of the direction from the incoming Coast Guard ship. "I wonder where he's going." She lifted her gaze back to the sky. The pillar of water continued to conceal the departing New Atlantis Dome, looking like an enormous hurricane without the cloud cover. "I've never seen anything like this."

Sly put a paw on Carmelita's shoulder. "I dare say it's finally over." He glanced back towards Dimitri's yacht and put his arms up, waving them overhead. "I see a glint of light on the deck, astern. I think it might be lens glare from binoculars or something. Wave your arms, gang."

All four of them held their arms up. Carmelita smiled. "I see two people in scuba gear. Jing and, presumably, Keri."

"I see'em," said Conner. Over on the other side of the large, round lifeboat, another hatch opened. Erik and Eleven came up to the top. They hurried over to Bentley and the Coopers. Conner grinned. "I sure as hell hope it's finally over. I'm ready to sleep for, like, a week."

Sly grinned at his son. "I figured you'd be tired of long naps."

"Ha freakin' ha," said the younger Cooper with a moue of disgust. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I just," he trailed off, hearing a large splash. His eyes cut back to the water between their small ship and Dimitri's yacht. The water began to rise up between the two boats. Conner's eyes widened. "The girls are out there!"

Another hatch opened, slamming back down against the outer hull. Karla and Winthrop came up to the surface. Karla teleported and reappeared near Sly and Conner, directly in front of Carmelita. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, something's going on out there. It's stirring up the water. Can you rescue them? Bring them back or drop them off on Dimitri's boat."

"One sec." Her husband ran up from behind. She turned to Winthrop and put a paw up. "Stay put, you." Then, before anyone could argue with her, she disappeared.

Over on Dimitri's yacht, Karla and Jing King appeared on the aft deck, just a few feet from Dimitri. Karla disappeared again. She appeared fifty feet above the waterline and brought a paw to her forehead to block out the morning sunlight. As she fell, she surveyed the area then disappeared again. After a moment, she reappeared on Moreau's yacht, adjacent to Conner. "I didn't see the other one. I _did_ see a lot of debris floating up from beneath. I couldn't tell if it was Crusher again."

"Crusher!" shouted Bentley. Everyone, including Erik and Eleven turned to face the enormous pink arm rising up from the brine. "Conner, how did you beat it before?"

"Wait here." Karla disappeared. Winthrop reached for her but was too late to stop her. She appeared atop of Crusher's head and inspected the antenna. She rubbed her chin for a moment then disappeared. This time, she reappeared on Dimitri's boat just as Jing was removing her facemask. "Who was with you?"

King glanced up. "Keri Tiikeri. She was struck by that _thing_ out there. She skipped across the surface like a smooth stone and was in one of it's arms being pulled under last I saw… then you appeared out of nowhere; suddenly I'm here. We must find her."

"I'm working on that. Hold tight." Karla turned to Dimitri. "Keep firing at that thing. Try to draw its attention away from us. Try leading it towards the Coast Guard ship; they'll be better prepared to deal with it. Once they engage it, get away from this area quickly. I'll bring over a few others from the lifeboat and you take them to Florida. The rest of us will stay and search for Keri."

"Wow, you're one hot momma… yeah, Dimitri'll do anything you want, babaliscious!"

"Shut up and get ready to flee the area." Karla disappeared. She appeared a moment later with Erik and Eleven. "Erik, use your obtenbration to protect this yacht so the rest of you can get away. We'll meet up with everyone at Conner's base camp, where Steven and Penelope are waiting for us." She disappeared. Seconds later, she reappeared with Winthrop, Javari and Sergei, Murray and Bentley, Bruce, Carmelita and Sly Cooper. She made a quick headcount then announced to the group, "LISTEN UP! Conner, Dawn, Carmen and Kalen will be stayimg on Moreau's yacht to find Keri. The rest of you will be headed back to Florida to start distributing the artifacts with Steven. Penelope is there and so is my son. So keep that place safe just in case anything unseen happens." She paused, snapped her fingers and disappeared again. A moment later, she reappeared with Kalen. "Since my son is there and since we have a priority situation involving these artifacts… knowing how much trouble they can be… I'm sending Kalen with you guys. He's formidable, as is Erik. You guys may need all the help you can get with taking back those artifacts… just in case, you know? I'm going to help them look for Keri. Dimitri, head towards the Coast Guard ship but fire on Crusher during your retreat. They will handle that thing; they have the firepower. Then make your escape to Florida. I'll see all of you soon. Stay out of trouble if you can!"

Before anyone could say anything further, Karla disappeared once more. She appeared adjacent to Dawn and Conner back on the other ship, arms draped around both of them. She smiled and winked at Carmen. "I have them working on leading Crusher back to the Coast Guard. I told them that Erik can protect them from that thing if necessary. Then, after the Coast Guard engages that creature, they need to hurry back to Florida and start working on a plan to get those artifacts spread out across the globe. So it's just the four of us beautiful people left to find Keri Tiikeri."

"Did Jing say what may have happened to her?" Conner's tone showed his concern.

"She said Crusher pulled Keri under." Karla frowned then added, "But she's wearing scuba gear. She has breathable air. That thing's suction cups won't touch her body, the swimsuit is insulated… I'm sure she'll be fine."

Conner sighed and nodded then turned to his girlfriend and sister. "Okay, gang. Let's get back inside. Dawn, start looking at the controls to see if you can figure out how to use whatever equipment we have at our disposal to find Keri. Karla, get a quick areal view then we can set up a search grid. Carmen, you take the wheel. After all this is said and done I still have to return this cane to Ethiopia and … if I have to, I'll use the damn thing to open up the sea so we can find her more easily. Whatever it takes."

Karla offered a stern glare. "You remember what Steven said. If you do something like that while the Coast Guard can see… it'll raise questions and we don't want that. Plus, with all the attention this area is getting right now, from the launching of that city, every satellite in the sky is pointing this way… don't you dare open up the sea again. Not here, not now…" She frowned at his expression then softened a bit. "Look, hon, we'll use it as a last resort if absolutely necessary to save her life, okay? Let's just search, first."

"Fine." Conner sighed. "Just… fine."

"Look let me do some recon real fast." She disappeared, reappeared on Dimitri's yacht, gave her husband a kiss on the neck then disappeared again. She reappeared high in the air, halfway out to the Coast Guard ship then blinked from existence once more. She reappeared again, just off the starboard bow, only to gasp. Crusher was coming up alongside the ship. She glanced to the left then zeroed in on the bridge and teleported onto it.

The ship's intercom blared over the loudspeaker. "ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS! GENERAL QUARTERS – report to battle stations!" The ship began to list.

Karla appeared on the bridge and said, "GOD you boys look cute in your little uniforms and your cute little helmets. But no one is going to believe you saw a random woman show up on your bridge then leave. So heed what I say but for the love of God, don't put my arrival or departure in your report unless you all want to face a section eight. That squid thing is off your right side. It's going to try and punch a hole in your hull so you'd better figure out a way to send high power electric current through the hull. I forget what that's called… degaussing? Or is that where you do that thing to keep barnacles growing on the… well WHATEVER… you know what I mean. You need to zap that sucker then when he moves off, shoot at him until he goes away. Toodles!" She ended by blowing a kiss at the Captain then disappeared. She reappeared outside the bridge, in mid air and said, "OUR SECRET!" then disappeared again until she returned back to Moreau's lifeboat.

Once she appeared adjacent to Conner, she said, "This is our chance to make a move. The Guard is completely tied up with Crusher… damn that thing moves fast under water. Anyway, I saw him. He was lifting his tentacle-things from the water and he didn't have Keri. Furthermore we should start a grid so that we can…" The boat listed hard, catching her off guard. She teleported everyone inside the cabin. Water splashed down from the hatches in the ceiling, leaving wet splotches on the carpet.

Karla poofed then reappeared by the window. Her eyes widened. "WHAT?"

Conner hurried over to her. "What's wrong?"

"There are _two_ Crushers?" Karla grit her teeth and rolled up her sleeves then disappeared. She returned to the flat surface of the disc-shaped lifeboat and folded her arms. Crusher emerged from the depths. She held her paws out and shouted at the top of her lungs… and just like that, Crusher disappeared.

Karla flopped unceremoniously onto her backside, panting softly. "Damn. I got really emotional there, didn't I?"

Dawn came up through one of the hatches. "Where is it?"

"I… I have no idea. I teleported it but I didn't have the energy to make it appear at any one place in particular. Uhm…" She got to her feet and scanned the area. "Damn, girl… y'know I have no clue where he wound up. Hmm…" She stopped, facing Dimitri's boat and the Coast Guard ship in the distance. A sigh passed her lips. "I only see the one climbing up on the side of the Guard ship. That one's already accounted for. I dunno where the other went."

A scream startled both girls. They looked up at the incoming, screeching creature that fell from an untold distance. Karla pulled Dawn to her breast and they both disappeared, back in the living room section. The second Crusher slammed into the sea, creating an enormous wave. Karla threw her left paw up, slamming shut both hatches in the immediate area. Carmen dashed into the utility room to close the other. A moment later, a wave washed over their enclosed boat.

Dawn wiggled out from Karla's right arm, her face pressed against the felox's bosom. Karla offered a wry grin. "Sorry, doll… old habits die hard."

Carmen returned to the room with slightly damp hair. She watched Dawn and Karla with furrowed brows. "Did I miss something?"

Conner ran his paw over his face. "Karla thinks she can smother people in her tits. Long, long story."

"I didn't know that was possible, anatomically speaking," said Carmen.

"I'll show you later," Karla said with a wink. Her face became serious. "Right now, though, we gotta find Keri and-or get the hell out of here before those things kill all four of us. Dawn, get to the computer and figure out the propulsion system on this… fake building saucer-thing. Conner, figure out which direction is forward so we can get to work. Carmen, make sure all the hatches are secured properly. I just slammed them shut to keep the water out."

"Since when did you become the leader?" asked Conner with a slight grin. He turned to Dawn and Carmen. "You heard the lady. Let's either find Keri or save our tails… or both, hopefully. We have to hurry, though. Keri's arm was cut up and that will make swimming difficult for her." Everyone began to move in a different direction.

* * *

x-

** Enforcer Carmelita Fox sat up with a soft groan, face to face with a beautiful**, exotic looking woman who appeared to be nude in the water. They were inside of a cave with Carmelita sitting on a rock. The woman stepped from the water and clothes began to wrap around her furless body, as well as leather boots of perfect shine, a loose fitting white V-neck blouse and beautiful jewelry. She offered a mysterious smile and said, "I'm Idona." As she stepped from the water to the rock, water appeared slow to retreat from her scale-dusted legs. It turned to mist, as if the sea was trying desperately to reach for her in one last futile attempt.

The woman's hair, full ringlets of ocean in hue, pooled on her shoulders then spilled down her back, like running water. Even in the dim illumination, Carmelita could see the sparkle of gems, which peppered her earfins and fingertips.

Carmelita rubbed the side of her face with a grunt of displeasure. Her clothes were soaked and her hip hurt from lying on the wet rock. "Am… I supposed to know you?"

"Perhaps," said the woman with a smile. "But not you, personally. Sly Cooper's wife to be exact, my dear. What do you remember?"

Fox looked down at her paws. "Helping everyone escape so there wouldn't be enough time left to save Moreau."

"If you perceive him to be dead, are you no longer programmed to obey him?" The smooth-skinned woman tilted her head and moved close to the vixen. Carmelita noted that she had a normal bi-ped appearance with an elegant tail of scales. They glistened various colors at different angles from the dim illumination. Carmelita couldn't describe her looks beyond that of a peach-skinned woman with smooth skin… skin, not fur… smooth skin like that of a pig or dolphin but… with a phenomenal figure. "Miss Fox?" she asked.

Carmelita blinked and looked back up at the woman's face. "I… sorry. I don't know. I think it may have simply been a hypnotic suggestion or something. Then again, my mind was always too strong to fall victim to that sort of thing in the past… but those were memories from Carmelita Cooper and I may not have the same mental fortitude. Anything is possible… I don't know. Why?"

"No dear, it wasn't brainwashing. It was a small device placed inside of you," said Idona. She reached a delicate hand behind the vixen's ear and dabbed a spot, half hidden in unruly locks of dark hair. Carmelita flinched. Idona smiled inwardly and drew her hand back, showing the vixen her fingertips, now with blood on the ends. "You see? You should have drowned. _I_ didn't save you from that fate, darling. You saved yourself. You froze the water around you in an icy shell and you froze yourself. Your body is somehow able to handle such but the device placed inside of you was unable to stand up against such cold. I directed the cocoon here into this submerged cave. You see, dear, skin tightens when you freeze… I surmise that it caused the flesh of your scalp to split where the small device was implanted behind your ear. I plucked it away and discarded it. You don't need stitches; you heal surprisingly fast."

"If I was inside a ball of ice, I should have suffocated."

Idona nodded. "You weren't breathing when I managed to shatter your shell. You were as blue as the ice I found you in… well, your lips, eyelids… at any rate, Miss Fox, you _were _dead. While looking you over, I saw blood on your head. I found the little metal device and plucked it from your scalp to inspect it… then the bleeding stopped. I looked closer… the wound was nearly gone. All that remains is the blood left in your fur, dear. While that close, I heard you take a breath… and so I waited for you to awaken. Remarkable abilities you have, Miss Fox. You're nothing like Sly Cooper's wife."

"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"Either way. It doesn't matter to me; you're immortal so you're one of us."

Carmelita tilted her head. She had very vague flashbacks to memories implanted in her… a bank in Prague… People like Karla Chintzy – the woman she met in Alphonse Moreau's lobby. "Wait. People like…?"

"Supernatural, dear. People who either can't die or people who offer the world something extraordinary. The average, mundane person fears people they cannot comprehend… so we stay in the shadows and do what we feel is best for this world, ultimately to make it more comfortable for ourselves."

"I'm a supernatural?" The vixen shook her head firmly. "No, no, you've got it all wrong. I'm a genetically engineered clone… the creation of a man I trusted who turned out to be a troublesome, dishonest bastard."

"Are you normal or natural?"

Carmelita shrugged. "Apparently there is NOTHING natural about me."

"Then if you're not natural, you're _super_natural, Miss Fox. Some supernatural people reject our society. Some try to fight against the peace and betterment we offer. We need people with a strong sense of morality and justice like yourself. Some people with our abilities simply try to live amongst the rest of society so they feel some semblance of normality because while they can cope with who they are, they can't cope with being shunned."

A lump appeared in Carmelita's throat then disappeared. She swallowed a second time then a third. Finally, she nodded. "Fair enough. I'm interested in what you're saying… tell me more. Show me. I thought I had an exotic, secret role in helping the world to become a better place and it was all a lie. I felt like I had meaning and I was heartbroken when I found out that my meaning was a sham. But if you can restore that sense of meaning to me… well, I would appreciate it. I lived my short life as a clone, thinking that I somehow made a difference. I felt like some clandestine hero. I would like to feel that way again."

"Hmm… perhaps you'll make a clandestine _super_hero. But you'll have to remain anonymous for the rest of your life."

Carmelita grinned at the mermaid. "Lady, I lived in a secret city under the sea that was hidden from the world. I'm _used_ to remaining anonymous and hidden from the rest of the world. Where are we?"

"Antarctica." Idona tilted her head, seeing Carmelita's expression. "Does that surprise you, considering your abilities?"

"I don't _feel_ cold."

"You wouldn't."

Carmelita Fox blinked. "How did we get this far?"

"I swim fast. You'll have to cocoon yourself again for me to move you where we need to go. We're headed to Tibet. I would like to introduce someone to you."

The vixen balked. She furrowed a single brow, creating a subtle crease in the fur pattern on her forehead. "If you're a mermaid, how can you get to Tibet?"

"We'll be meeting someone off the coast of India that can get us the rest of the way there." Idona motioned to Carmelita with her hands. "Wrap yourself in ice again. Let's not waste time, darling."

"India, huh?"

Idona's slight smile broadened. She lifted a red rock, one that Carmelita immediately recognized. The first time Fox'd seen it was in Sly Cooper's fist as he eluded her the day they met, fresh out of the academy. Carmelita had to remind herself that those weren't her real memories.

At the same time, Idona began to ponder how it was that Moreau managed to implant all of Carmelita's memories… or at least select ones… from the real Carmelita.

The ex-enforcer blinked and shook away the reverie then asked, "How did you get the Firestone of India? It dissolved into Alphonse's clone and caused a tree to grow or something."

Idona lowered her head, looking upwards at Carmelita. "Really? What did you think it was?"

"A seed wrapped in some sort of amber; fossilized tree sap. It's that old."

"It was _older_ than 'that old', Miss Fox. And no, it isn't fossilized tree sap. Similar chemical composition, darling. But it's not exact… it's not fossilized. Miss Fox, my dear, you have to use your imagination."

Carmelita Fox tilted her head. She reached for the Firestone of India and squinted in the dim illumination then handed it back. "The _whole thing_ is a seed?"

"Exactly. Do you think a fossilized barrier would be so easily eroded by stomach acid, or that a tiny seed would even _survive_ stomach acid? No, Miss Fox. It grew from his throat and the entire 'stone' was a seed. ...IS a seed. The little dot at the center is the nucleus of the seed… modern scientists simply haven't seen seeds like this one before because they don't exist anymore, so they thought it was a stone a hundred years ago when it was discovered and named. Modern scientists thought it was a fossilized seed. Silly creatures, these mortal scientists. After all, they think I'm a fictitious 'creature'. Yet here I am."

A look of understanding dawned on Carmelita's facial features. "Oh! That tree that grew down in True Atlantis… Fruits and seeds grew on the branches and you managed to get one. …But why?"

"Because it's one of the artifacts. So another produced itself. The tree grew up through the ground, broke through the mantle and sprouted up through the ocean. I plucked a seed then one of the people in our society managed to find a way to stop the tree from growing with _his_ special ability. I brought him out here to perform that task and noticed your ice bubble. I put your bubble into a current pattern and took him home. I came back for you. Now you're here in Antarctica. It's quite simple. Don't look so surprised. Now, we've wasted enough time. Figure out how to cocoon yourself again, Ice Queen. It's time to go."

"Give me a moment to figure out how to do what I did." Carmelita got to her feet, took a deep breath then exhaled in a sigh. "Okay… let's see here."

* * *

x-

**Epilogue **

_About eighteen to twenty hours later…  
Somewhere in the Atlantic…_

**Itching between the toes preceded** a fuzziness that illuminated the backside of her eyelids. Keri Tiikeri tried closing her paw into a fist but couldn't. She turned her head only to be splashed in the face with warm salt water. Her eyes opened to retreating sea foam. She began to sit up, finding that wet sand encased her left paw. Her right one was covered in dry, crusty tan granules. Another wave lapped at her left hip.

She groaned softly but her voice cut out intermittently. Further up the beach was an abandoned hut with several planks missing from its walls, which allowed her to see straight through it. She glanced over her shoulder, wincing from the pain of achy muscles and noted tall buildings in the distant afternoon haze. She began to stand up.

A long palmetto leaf clung to her chest with caked wet sand clinging to her tattered clothes and messy fur. Her head lowered to take in her appearance, noting that one of her shoes were missing. A flashback occurred – she recalled it being pulled off of her foot when struck by a powerful wave. She remembered her other foot dragging along the bottom and feeling intense elation of finally being near land. She also recalled that the next wave hit her so hard that she tumbled, striking her head…

The memory ended. Keri scanned the beach then a wry grin tugged at the tigress' muzzle. Wearily, she approached a black object sticking up out of the sand as a smaller wave drew back from the shore. She stumbled out into the water and yanked it out of the ground then rinsed the dirt from the shoe. She began to waddle up the beach, brushing sand off of her arm. Her bandages were missing but the wound appeared to be in far better condition.

A sign, further up in the scattered grass, was lying on its back, pointing north. In faded paint, it read, "Red Bay, Andros."

Keri rubbed her chin for a moment then reached into her pockets, finding heaps of wet sand in them. She thought for a moment while working to turn the pockets inside out then shook her head. She cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back then sighed. "Where the hell is Andros?"

There were no roads along the coastline and the sun was high above, making it difficult to figure out the cardinal directions. She began trudging up the shoreline. There was a man, an avian with a large colorful beak, walking along the waterline with a basket on his back.

Keri headed back down into the sand and approached him. Again, she cleared her throat and asked, "Where is Andros?"

"Andros?" he asked then waved his winged hand about. "This… all of this."

"Where am I?"

He seemed to ignore her question and reached into the basket on his back and withdrew a sea sponge. "World's best place to find _these_." He smiled, seeing the confusion on her face then proudly announced, "These's is thee Big Yard, and you are lookin' very lost bebe' girl."

She shook her head, "I'm very lost. I don't know the Big Yard."

"Sweetheart, you're in the Bahamas! The biggest island in the West Indies, on the western shore! Bonefishing, sponges and amazing wildlife are all around you, darlin'." The toucan's beak contorted at the corners of his mouth to represent a smile. "Where did you come from? Are you hung over? If so, get some water."

"No, I…" She shrugged. "I needed a change of scenery. How do I get to…" She paused to ponder a city in the Bahamas where she knew there would be civilization. "…Nassau?"

"Head north to Red Bay, take a bus to New Town then'a ferry to Adelaide. Your arm looks painful."

She nodded slowly. "I have a broken rib, a sprained wrist and," she lifted her favored arm. "This gash that runs to the elbow. I've had'em for a little while, now."

He moved closer and leaned over to look at her arm. "You need antibiotics for 'dat. There are plenty in Nassau."

Keri offered him a grin and a nod. "I appreciate your help, sir. How far is New Town?"

"A day or two if you're walking," he replied with a boisterous chuckle. "Feel better and good luck with your injuries, young lady."

She began walking up the coast, with the water on her left. Keri ambled back to her right where the sand was firmer, interlaced with grass and weeds. She ran her fingers back through her knotted hair, a brilliant smile on her muzzle. "I'm in the _Bahamas_," she giggled to herself. "I can't even _make_ this up."

* * *

x-

**Bentley hurried down the gangplank** and took Penelope into his arms. With a burst of adrenaline, he lifted his lithe mousey wife into his embrace and she threw her arms and legs around him. The bionic leg attachments made split-second calculations due to weight distribution to keep them both aloft. She kissed him all over his face then their lips met firmly.

Donovan broke free of Steven's arms, dropped to the ground and rushed towards his father. Winthrop picked up the little boy and hugged his son. "Hey little guy! You hold the fort down while I was away?"

"I'm glad you're home, daddy. Where's my mom, though?"

Winthrop chuckled. "She's on the next boat. They'll be here shortly. They were looking for a friend and took their time." He pivoted on the dock and pointed out towards the horizon. "See that little dot out there?"

"I miss her, Daddy. I hope she comes home soon; I don't want to miss her anymore." Donovan rested his head on his father's shoulder and sighed softly.

"Aww." Javari approached Winthrop and his son. She glanced back at Sergei then towards the toddler again. "Isn't that just precious?"

Sergei put his arm around Javari and nodded. "Da. He's precious. Perhaps we should explore the wonders of childhood for ourselves, hmm?"

Javari grinned. "You sure you wouldn't rather wait for a while?"

Sergei chuckled. "Nyet, you're brave enough to do your best for three years; you're certainly brave enough to become a mother, Lady. I'm ready when you are."

The wolverine smiled brightly. "You thought I was brave?"

Surge nodded firmly. "Dah, tih bihlah."

"There you go again with that Klingon language of yours," she said then pressed her lips to his. "C'mon, let's let everyone have their moment together. We'll catch up with Conner and the rest later on. I'm sure Keri will turn up. It's Keri Tiikeri, after all. That girl is impressive when it comes to surviving."

"Where shall we go, Lady?"

Javari nuzzled her nose to his. "North. C'mon. It's been three long years for us. I want to stretch and get away right now." She took him by the paw and they began walking down the dock, offering nods to everyone else.

Jing looked about for her father but didn't see him. She began to wonder off the dock then paused, hearing footsteps from behind. She turned about and offered Penelope a soft smile. "Mrs. Wiseturtle. I'm glad to see you again."

The small-framed mouse hugged Jing firmly. "Your father misses you very much. I was afraid for him; I didn't tell him very much about this rescue operation because if you didn't make it back, it would be fresh emotional pain all over again. I'm sorry he's not here – that's my fault."

Jing hugged Penelope then relinquished the polite embrace. "Then he will be surprised when I return to China."

Penelope nodded then smiled. "I can have your papers drawn up to get you back into China but it'll take two or three days, even with expedited service. China thinks you're deceased and until we can prove you're alive, your papers will flag you for detaining unless we fix the clerical work before you try to enter the country. Don't worry, we'll have you home in no time."

Jing smiled in return and bowed her head slightly. "In the mean time, I will spend my time with Murray."

Penelope tilted her head then looked over her shoulder at her husband's chubby childhood friend. She glanced back at Jing with a look of confusion. "Sure thing. Are you sure you don't want to stay with Bentley and myself while we work on your paperwork?"

The Chinese panda offered a mysterious sort of smile then approached Murray and linked her arm with his. "I suppose I never mentioned that I had grown close to him. Out of respect, he never talked of our budding relationship because I do not wear my emotions like a vibrant cloth as others do. For all our differences, you would be surprised at what we have in common."

Bentley looked at Murray then back at Jing then back at Murray again. "You didn't tell _me_, big guy?"

Murray rubbed the back of his head with an awkward chuckle. "Yeeeah, I guess I didn't really say much. But, like, I thought it was totally obvious. We started talking a few years ago when I was teaching her to dance."

Jing's smile turned into a lopsided grin. "Yes; he called it 'busting… a move' and I was charmed by his purity of heart. Perhaps you both simply failed to notice the signs of our budding relationship. Then again I am a private person, honorable Bentley and Penelope Wiseturtle. We may be beyond 'middle aged' but we have been very happy for the duration of our complicated-yet-simplistic romance."

Bentley brought a hand to the bottom of his beaked mouth, rubbing in thought. "What's so complicated about your relationship?"

Murray took Jing's paw. "Her idea of being lovey-dovey is by hangin' out and just doin' stuff together. We're not all kissy-kissy like most people. She's like my best friend, she's totally awesome, and we're not obsessed with, you know, having a family or whatever. It's totally awesome."

Jing saw Penelope's confusion and added, "We put more value on our time together than on outward displays of affection. He treats me as an equal and I respect him with my heart. Mrs. Wiseturtle, I appreciate the aid in renewing my papers. I look forward to returning home and seeing my father."

Bentley placed his hand on Penelope's lower back. "So, uh, Murray… does Panda King know that you and Jing are an item?"

"Well duh," replied the hippo with a chuckle. "Who do you think put those rad rocket jets on the back of my racing van? Speaking of my van," he turned to Jing, "We _totally_ have to get that out of storage!"

"Indeed we do." She nodded firmly.

Sly and Carmelita turned to one another then back to Murray, Jing, Bentley and Penelope. The raccoon leaned towards his wife and whispered, "I… did _not_ see that one coming."

Carmelita licked her lips and whispered back. "Are you kidding? I thought they were both going to be single until the end of time. To find out that they've been together for quite some time now… that's just… wow." She glanced over her shoulder at the incoming craft still out at sea. "Speaking of relationships… it's going to be strange to see our 'suddenly seventeen' year-old son in a romantic relationship with that girl adopted by Bruce Junior." She paused then looked around the area. "Speaking of him, where's Bruce Senior?"

Sly withdrew an arm from his wife and looked around the area. "You're right… where'd he go? I didn't even see him leave." Sly lifted a paw over his eyes to block out the morning sunlight. "Has anyone else seen Uncle Bruce?"

Penelope blinked. "Bruce O'Coop was _here_? When?"

Carmelita rubbed the backside of her neck. "Uh, he was with us when we came ashore." She turned to Dimitri, still on his yacht. She walked down the dock, watching as he worked to secure the mooring ropes. "Have you see Bruce? Is he below deck?"

The lizard shrugged. "He beat feet, sister. First one off this loveboat, faster than Murray's van. He was split-city like a cracker and a parrot. He disappeared like a ninja in the dark faster than…"

"Thanks, you can stop now." She walked away, muttering, "No wonder he's still single," with a roll of her eyes. She stopped at the end of the dock then turned to the handsome jackal with the sharp features. "Aren't you allergic to sunlight?"

"Only when starving," he replied in a smooth voice. "I have the fortitude to weather the rays of the sun; I will wait here until Carmen comes in to port. Thank you for your concern."

"Well, alright. I know Conner hasn't exactly trusted you in the past. I hope we can all get beyond that silliness. I've seen the way you treat my daughter. You act like she's exalted. As her mother, I appreciate the respect you show to her. Just… keep it up, okay? I've kicked the tails of _several_ supernatural beings. I wouldn't want you to wind up on my list." Carmelita grinned.

Kalen offered a wan smile. "Indeed, I will respect her forever. You have my word, Mrs. Cooper. And, as I promised your husband, I will make sure she goes to a nice University when we get home. I should probably brush up on a few classes, myself."

"Supernatural people going to college? You guys don't have your own private education, away from us mere mortals?"

The jackal tilted his head. "Knowledge is power. We believe in that very strongly. For example, even Karla went to a community college in Paris while raising Donovan and being a housewife. In fact, I'm sure she'll be returning to her studies when everyone goes home. An education is a respected pursuit, _especially_ in the eyes of others amongst our society."

Carmelita rubbed her head. "I can only imagine why _Karla_ would want to attend college. She probably has her eyes on every college boy on campus."

Kalen shrugged gingerly. "I wouldn't know. She likes to lay low by attending a community college, where I prefer the prestige of a large, respectable university. At any rate, I assured your husband that I would urge Carmen to seek the best education possible."

The vixen leaned in and kissed the side of his face then his other cheek. "Thank you, Kalen. I'm going to go and catch up with Sly. We'll be staying around until everyone gets back; we'll be heading to Paris in the next day or two. You're welcome to come along with us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. I'll speak with Carmen and see what her intentions are before I commit to any plans." He turned his head back towards the water and folded his paws behind his back in silence.

* * *

x-

_Forty-eight hours later_…

**"So this is Key Largo,"** mused Sergei, rubbing his chin. His other paw tightened around Javari's, running his thumb over her knuckles. "I was thinking about heading up to Miami and picking up my car from storage."

Ahma laughed. "I've thought about that car from time to time. Well, it's just us," she said, waving her free paw through the air, gesturing to the airport, which was laid out before them. "Miami, let's go. We have more money than we'll ever need if we spend it wisely – Miami isn't far, right?" She pointed towards the sign that read, '_Flex Jet'_ and patted her pocket first before retrieving a wallet with her new Bank of America debit card. "By the way, where were you yesterday?"

Sergei snapped his fingers, withdrew his other paw from hers and rubbed them together. "I was going to wait and make it a public event but then I remembered how you told me you just want to hide away from the rest of the world and have a private, quiet life for a little while. So… out of thee, uh, 'respect' of your wishes, you know, I decided to get you a little something." He fished out a box from his pocket and passed it to her. "I really appreciate that you came and visited me almost every day, Lady. I couldn't have gone on all those years in a cell without being able to see you. I would do anything for you and… I want that offer to stand for a long, very, _very_ long… long time." He thumbed open the box, showing her a beautiful, white gold ring with a large _sapphire_ at the center.

Javari's face lit up. "You remembered!" She wrapped her arms around him. "I can't believe you remembered!" She relinquished the hug and took the symbolic jewelry piece he offered by sliding her left ring finger into the engagement ring. "I told you _one time_, three years ago, that I didn't want a diamond; just something simple and beautiful, like a sapphire… just _one time_."

Sergei offered a sly grin. "And, like a _good_ man, I listened. So, Lady. You and me? Team Gurlukovich?"

Her smile brightened. "Ahma was a boring name anyway." Again, she threw her arms around him. "I know I said I wanted privacy but… I still feel compelled to call Dawn and Conner and tell them."

Surge offered a nod, nuzzling his face against hers. "So, Lady, do you think they've heard from Keri Tiikeri yet?" He didn't receive a response so he drew his head back to look at her. He tilted his head a bit and frowned. "Sorry, I know… I shouldn't have brought that up at a time like this. I'm sure she's fine. Perhaps she wanted to get away and relax, just like us. I'm quite sure of it."

"Sergei, she was injured and disappeared in the sea, baby. I… I fear that DJ, wherever she is, has lost a twin. And that is, well, kind of depressing, you know? I just…" She brought both paws to either side of his face. "Let's not ruin a happy moment with something we can't control. I love you. It took three damn years, but we can both finally be happy." She withdrew a prepaid cellphone and grinned. "The sooner I tell Dawn, the sooner we can go enjoy our seclusion."

"I couldn't agree more, Lady."

* * *

x-

**Debbie Jean Tiikeri** looked up at her husband, Lieutenant Commander Ross Hunter, offering an inquisitive look and bunching her brows upon her forehead. She adjusted the lay of her Coast Guard uniform, gave a quick tug at the bottom of her uniform shirt then reached for the digital display in his paw. She turned it about and read the words. "This is a confidential update meant for your eyes only. This doesn't concern my pay grade."

"I know, DJ. Read it again." He waited for her to do so then smiled and added, "USCG HQ doesn't let us share anything like this with contractors, like yourself. So don't tell anyone."

DJ tilted her head again. "Wait, this wasn't an ICBM that came out of the ocean, was it?"

He offered a grin. "No, of course not. We just received confirmation from Command – so these orders I just showed you… it's outdated. Which… means I get in less trouble if I'm caught showing this to you. But the new intelligence update suggests a lot of interesting things. Some sort of dome launched from the ocean, half surrounded in a pillar of water. A Guard cruiser was _attacked_ by two squid-like creatures, the likes of which have never been seen before and haven't been seen since. At the same time, some white-and-pink furred lady appeared on the bridge briefly, spoke to the Captain directly then disappeared. She was seen outside the bridge, and then disappeared again. Sound familiar?"

"Karla Chintzy?"

Hunter nodded. "They were in range of the Bahamas. The next day, a girl described as a Finnish tigress, was overheard talking about the incident."

"Overheard by whom?" asked DJ, her interested suddenly piqued.

"A Coast Guard Ensign who was at a bar while his ship was in port. He told a Lieutenant J.G., and word traveled up the chain of command. They asked her if she would volunteer to talk about the incident. How many female tigers would know about a woman who can _supposedly_ teleport? She was moved to a nearby base and is being treated as a guest. We're enroute. I petitioned the XO to grant you permission to speak with her based on my hunch."

Debbie Jean held her excitement at bay. "It's been three years since I've seen her and almost as long since I've heard from her. What kind of hunch are we talking about here?"

He folded his arms. "Wasn't she mentioned in a Finnish newspaper article as a hero for rescuing a plane full of hostages in India a while back? She received a knife in the leg and everyone was surprised when she didn't show up in Finland to receive the life-saving medal, just weeks ago?"

"Yeah, that's why I thought she was dead. She wouldn't have missed that ceremony for anything unless she was …I don't know… dead or immobilized."

He offered his wife a nod and a grin. "A few of us have received extremely classified intelligence suggesting that the "ICBM" that flew up out of the ocean was actually something more complicated. Based on video footage taken by the cruiser two days ago, we know it's something more than a missile, that's for sure."

She lifted a paw to interrupt her husband. "Wait, why are you telling me this if it's sensitive material?"

"Because the girl in the Bahamas claims that it was an underwater city that launched into orbit. She claims that she's part of a rescue operation that failed but that she was aided by a trio of people and when she was brought in for questioning, she was given an exam. She has a stab wound in her leg. Just don't get your hopes up."

"When is our arrival time?"

He grinned then took her by the wrist and led her to the nearest porthole. Outside of the window, she could see the Bahamas and shimmering blue water. He placed his paw on her back, using his other to take the digital display from her. "How about now?"

DJ glanced back at him and bit her lip. "I take it I just stay silent when we go to meet this girl?"

"Unless she happens to be who I think she is, yes… c'mon, let's go."

Debbie nodded and fell into step with him, heading out of her workroom.

* * *

X-

_At the same time, 879 Nautical Miles away (1628Km)_…

**"It feels strange to be back in Washington D.C. after so many years,"** said Elvena. "I'm not really 'agent eleven' anymore."

Erik nodded in agreement. "And yet I still call you Eleven from time to time. Kind of like Maxwell Smart always called his wife, '99'. A lot has changed since the last time I've seen America's Capital city."

"And a lot is still the same," she mused, looking from the distant Capitol building over to the Washington Memorial. "I'm glad I left the agency."

"Change is good, yes?"

She grinned. "Sometimes. Sometimes I like things to stay the way they are. I'll never get tired of hearing your cute Czech dialect. It's always been light but it's always been consistent, too. Don't change that. Ever."

This time Erik grinned. "I won't. I always thought American accents were sexy, so I know how you feel. Why did we come here anyhow?"

The couple continued walking together. She slid her paw into his. "Because I left money in a bank, here in Washington DC. It's been accruing interest for several decades. I've had it invested for the sake of growth and maturity… now it's time to cash out and start a fresh new life with a _real_ sky over our heads. We were both _way_ too young to be involved in the things that brought us together. It's been almost thirty years together and we don't even have kids. I'm forty-seven years old but because of Moreau's civilization, the diet and the lifestyle… I don't feel a day over forty. Y'know, I think it's time we started a family before we get _too_ old. And that's going to take money, a house, a job… all that nonsense. So we're here for the nest egg I left behind… it'll be a _really big egg_ by now. Enough to live comfortably. Enough to help us blend in."

Erik brought her paw to his lips and nipped at her knuckles. "I guess we should fly back to Europe next." He furrowed his brows then smiled brightly. "My goodness, I never told you! I never brought it up because I figured we'd never leave that city… I was Donovan Loupe's student but I lived with him as if he were my step-father. When he died, he left me an inheritance. I lived off of it up until several decades ago. Then we went down to that city and we didn't need currency. Well… needless to say, we have money coming in from both sides. Why get jobs? We should get hobbies instead."

Elvena snorted, which turned into a giggle. "Where do you want to go first? Let's travel until I become too pregnant to do anything else."

Erik nodded and waved his free paw forward. "First stop, your bank. Second stop… the world."

* * *

x-

_At that moment, the Florida Keys…_

**Conner offered a sad sort of smile, watching **as Karla and Winthrop teased and played with their toddler son, Donovan. He glanced at Dawn then back at the happy family thirty feet away. "You want to do that some time?"

"Have kids? Of course. It doesn't have to be right away, though." She looked back at him then frowned, seeing his forlorn expression. "Conner, we did all we could to find Keri. It's time to return the other cane to Africa. It's time to help Steven return the artifacts. It's time to put this whole experience behind yourself. Baby, we got a call from Sergei and Javari. They're getting married; we're invited to the private ceremony, you as the best man and me as the maid of honor. Then they're going to lay low and enjoy themselves for a while. Sergei and Javari. Three years being separated by jail cell bars and you _remember_ how those two couldn't keep their paws off one another when they first met. A whirlwind romance. And now, because of us, they're together and happy. We helped Karla and Winthrop reconcile their marriage. We helped liberate Erik and that weasel lady."

"Elvena," he said. "And you're right. We did a lot of good. We rescued my family; we reunited Penelope and Bentley. We rescued Jing so that she could be reunited with her father. I just… I felt bad that Thomas was killed by accident… and I feel even worse that Keri disappeared. She was a good girl; she didn't deserve to die alone in an ocean. Crusher… _several_ Crushers. We weren't ready for that. The Coast Guard ship only survived because I used the Nehushtan to throw that creature in one direction and the ship in the other. I broke that silly supernatural society policy and I zapped the hell out of the second Crusher. I couldn't let those things kill those people. And now what? I can't even tell anyone about it. And who knows if that means this secret society is now watching me because of what I did. I don't want that sort of attention, I don't need to be pissing off people who could make my life hell."

"The people who matter the most will never forget it," Dawn replied in a soothing tone. "Keri will always be a hero and who knows… maybe she made it."

"Dawn… please don't. I… if she was alive, she'd find a way to contact us."

"And if the opportunity presents itself, she will."

"Alright, alright. You're an optimist, I get it. We should get these artifacts put away so we can get started on looking for your half sister. She might be the only key to finding your biological mother so you can find out about your biological father."

"It's alright. If we find my folks, great… if not, I'll be satisfied just knowing I could keep my half-sister safe. Conner, do you love me?"

He stopped and tilted his head. "Pardon? Of course I love you. I went through hell and high water, quite literally, to keep you in my life. I adore you."

Dawn smiled. "Then why don't you kiss me. We're home. We're safe. This is the part where I make good on my promise to you… for surviving this big ordeal, I'll give you a relationship and, as Karla suggested, I'll make you 'a man'. C'mon. Besides, I told you, years ago, that I'd move to France with you."

The sharp-minded girl smiled. Her words worked and she loved seeing Conner smile… for the first time in a few days, he was smiling. Cooper took her right paw into both of his palms. "I'm sorry I've been moping about for a few days. You're right. My mission was an amazing success. I rescued my family and did the impossible. I helped to sink Clockwerk then, because of you and my great uncle, we launched that bastard into orbit. It's over. It's time to return the artifacts and have fun with you. It's time to get my driver's license, go to college and relax. You're right. Why was I being so emotional? Yeah, it sucks that Gerard and Keri Tiikeri didn't make it home but… I can honor their memory by being proud of our achievements. You know me pretty well, y'know that?"

Dawn leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Conner lifted his paws and cupped either side of her face, deepening the kiss. It lasted several moments before a sound caused his ears to perk. Conner opened his eyes and cut his gaze to the left, seeing Karla standing over the couple. He rolled his eyes and closed them again, trying to ignore her.

"That it's, Conner! Curl her toes with a manly kiss. Rawr! Boy I could watch this all day!" She giggled in delight, seeing Conner lift a paw from Dawn's cheek to offer the middle finger. "Oh isn't that a trip! Well, it's 'all good.' I know what a great kisser she is. She'll rock your world, boy. You'll be a man by tonight."

Conner waved his middle finger from left to right then put his paw back on Dawn's cheek, refusing to break the kiss. Karla glanced over her shoulder then groaned. "Winthrop! I asked you not to let Steven near our kid. If that man runs ONE MORE TEST on my son, I'm going to jam that tongue depressor up his nose!" And, in an instant, she was gone again. The humorous moment caused Conner to smirk against Dawn's lips but it was brief; his attention returned to Dawn and how nice it felt to kiss his girlfriend.

* * *

x-

_Twenty minutes later…_

_ The Bahamas…_

**Debbie's heart jumped**. She felt almost dizzy, walking into the hallway behind the lobby. Her husband took note and whispered to her but his words were a million miles away. She licked her lips nervously trying to get that resolute, calm demeanor back but it was difficult to control her emotions. "Sh- she's here."

The Commander in front of the small group glanced back at DJ and her husband with narrowed eyes. He addressed the officer in a soft yet firm tone. "I agreed your wife could come but if she's going to…"

DJ shook her head quickly. "No, you don't understand, Sir. That's my twin sister you're holding in there."

He stopped cold in the hallway and turned about. "Come again?" He eyed her carefully. "What is it that you _think_ you know?"

"I just… I feel it in my gut. My sister, who I thought was dead, is in this very building." She swallowed then, reverently, added, "Sir."

The Commander cut his gaze from Debbie to Ross Hunter then back to the USCG Contractor. "I've not seen the informant in person yet. If you're right… and that's a very _big_ 'if', then I'll expect you to help me by conducting the debriefing. _And_ to determine if her story is legitimate. Else, I expect you to stay in the office and stay _completely silent_, is that understood?"

"Aye sir," said both DJ and her husband in unison. The Commander turned about and began walking again. They followed in silence. He opened a door with a see-through tinted glass. DJ peered over the man's shoulder then craned her head to see around him. She blinked; her jaw dropped and she hurried to the glass, knowing it was a mirror on the other side. Less than three feet from her was Keri Tiikeri, standing in front of the mirror in an empty interrogation room, inspecting the stitching job on her arm. She wore an off-white tank top, form-fitting khaki shorts and flip-flops. Keri froze and lifted her eyes a bit, staring into the mirror at eye level with her twin. She quirked a brow and blinked twice, unable to see through the mirror but, somehow, able to sense something.

The Commander looked at the woman on the other side of the tinted glass then looked back at DJ. "Can… she see you through the mirror?"

DJ's husband murmured aloud. "It's as if she's looking right through it, Commander."

The senior officer nodded and gave DJ a gentle push on her shoulder. "Go on."

Debbie pivoted on her heel, ran out the office, and down the hall. Meanwhile, the Commander watched curiously as the woman inside the interrogation room backed away from the mirror and started to look around as if she felt a presence flanking her position. The door at the west end of the interrogation room burst open. Both girls froze, staring at one another for the longest single second of their lives then they rushed to one another.

"My grandfather had a twin brother," said the Commander. "He never mentioned anything about being able to sense his brother… I've never heard of something like this before."

Ross folded his arms, watching his wife through the glass with a satisfied grin. "They've been apart for years. DJ thought she was dead. Maybe because they came within proximity to one another after being apart for so long…? I don't know. Women have stronger intuition than men, too. Lot of factors at play here, sir."

The Commander smirked. "Always the scientist at heart, son. As long as I've known you." He turned back to the window. "I'm glad I agreed to let your wife come here today, Lieutenant Commander. She'll help, I'm sure."

They listened to the conversation over the speaker. DJ said, "You look like HELL!"

"I went through hell, looking for YOU! I got some money together and went hunting for you; I thought you were DEAD!"

"Wait, you struck out, alone, to look for ME?"

"Not at first, DJ. I was abducted. I got away, I stowed aboard a submarine full of terrorists. I …I got myself into trouble."

"You always do," said Debbie with a slight grin. "I don't even know how to ask you where to begin…"

"Well, Jesus, so much has happened. Remember when we thought Conner was brain-dead? He went into a coma, remember?"

DJ nodded, "I remember; impaled by his own cane."

Keri picked up without missing a beat. "But after three years in a coma, he came back and found Dawn. He hunted down Karla Chintzy but she'd married and had kids. After somehow convincing her that his job was important, he came out to sea somehow, God only knows how he got out to us and found us."

DJ pulled back from her sister, picking up the conversation. "Wait, why did you go out to sea in the first place?"

"To look for YOU, of course!" Keri exclaimed.

"Well how does Conner Cooper fit into this?"

"Conner found me when he was putting a team back together. And they started training and I was looking everywhere for you. I was attacked and I freaked out. I used our old call for help and instead of _you_ showing up… Conner showed up. Anyway, at one point, I just couldn't take it anymore. It's a long story. I went behind the team's back and started trying to pull contacts to find you. I got in over my head and I was attacked one night during a storm. I was attacked by people who were angry that I stopped the attack on that plane; apparently the terrorists were related to the old pirating contacts and… it's just a big mess. Anyhow, moving on... I overheard things they'd said about how they thought that one of their contacts might be able to lead me to someone important, which I thought was _you_. Before I knew what I got myself into… I snuck off the sub, wondered around the city, found Conner's family in stasis then wound up in a prison in a city below the sea. At one point, I broke out… but then I was captured again and put into a cell with the Russian boy that Javari started seeing three years ago."

Again, the conversation returned to DJ without so much as a pause. "You were in a cell with Sergei? For how long? And Conner's family was alive in a city under the sea…?"

"Sergei was kept awake so they could control Javari. You know what a math genius she is," said Keri. "They used Javari's abilities for god-knows-what purposes to god-knows-what ends. They treated Sergei horribly. Everyone else was in suspended animation… cryogenic freeze."

"They were FROZEN?"

Keri nodded. "Apparently Alphonse Moreau, the guy responsible for EVERYTHING, including the climatic changes as of late, was down there running that city. He somehow perfected the ability to store and thaw frozen people and he was cloning people too. Conner, Dawn and Karla came to rescue everyone. Karla's husband showed up to help; the four of them rescued Sergei and myself… and all of us tore the city apart. Eighteen in all. One defected at the last minute and helped us but accidentally killed a guy named Thomas."

"Thomas Gerard!"

Keri nodded emphatically. "You remembered! Yeah, the cop that was following Conner while we helped him find his mother, three years ago. Exactly. He turned out to be working for Moreau but he defected and was put into prison and left to rot. Carmelita's clone accidentally killed him when she defected to help us get out of the city. She died, too. She drown when that place went to hell."

"Carmelita? As in… Carmelita Cooper? You said she had a clone?"

"DJ, listen, Moreau cloned himself. Conner and his father had to fight both. Carmelita Cooper had a clone that Moreau employed to police the city with an iron paw. Seventeen of us got out of there alive."

"Jesus Christ, Keri, I thought you _died_. When I saw your name in the Finnish paper, I was so proud of you and when you didn't show up recently for the award ceremony… I thought you were dead."

"Captured but not dead. I still have the stab in my leg from the plane incident in India. Not to mention having my arm injured, having my ribs cracked while I was in the sea… sprains, pains and …it's all inflamed." She grinned at her own rhyme scheme.

Debbie half-glared at her sister then… after a moment, she pulled Keri back into her arms. "I can't believe I actually missed your retarded sense of humor."

Keri beamed. "My sparkling repartee! You bitch, you didn't come looking for me! God, let me get a look at you." She put her paws on DJ's shoulders and stepped back. Her eyes zeroed in on her sister's left paw then widened. "WHAT! Are you SERIOUS? You got _married_? I should have been there to see it! Who did you marry?"

Debbie Jean giggled softly and took her sisters paws into her palms, bringing them together at hip level. "Who… do you _think_ I married?"

"ROSS? You guys got back together?"

"Why do you think I disappeared? I had to leave my old life behind to give my new life an honest chance. But I _did_ look for you. You were hard to find!"

Keri snorted, half laughing in spite of herself. "Again… _you bitch!_ I wish I knew! Aw, man, I missed so much!"

DJ looked Keri over and said, "Well… now this ends the argument… you're my younger sister. You acted like a child and ran off in every direction possible. You ran off with… whoever you ran off with. I thought you went back to Finland."

"I _did_. I met this guy named Steven who explained _everything_. He helped us figure out how to… it's complicated. But then we were attacked by Moreau's people or… _something_. And I put out that distress call that only you would know… but somehow Conner and Dawn picked it up and figured out how to decrypt it. And… I helped Conner and Dawn rescue his family so that the whole lot of us could get out of there. Javari's safe, Sergei… Karla, Dawn, Conner… everyone you knew and more. Well," Keri trailed off.

But DJ picked up without so much as a pause. "…Everyone except Gerard."

"Exactly."

"What was down there that had Moreau stay in a freakin' _city_ under the water?"

"Conner's folks seemed to think the _real_ Atlantis was down there but… I didn't see it. I just know that there were a lot of weird things going on. And people had artifacts that could do insane things. You should have seen Conner. He managed to fight a giant metal robot owl thing and somehow he beat it with electricity."

"Say what?"

Keri nodded emphatically. "Girl, I'm telling you, he had some sort of electric weapon or belt with a generator or… god knows what. He was doing stuff as weird as that Karla chick."

DJ frowned. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation for what we saw Karla do."

Keri shook her head. "No, Karla's the real deal. She's legit. Trust me. I think Conner might be that way, too."

"I don't even know what to believe. I'm just glad you're okay. What happened to the city?"

"Conner's family, with Dawn's help, figured out how to make the under water city take off like a rocket. I think it was designed to go into orbit so Alphonse Moreau could use it like some sort of orbital base or something… some real sci-fi crap… but we managed to figure out how to make it shoot into the sky and keep going… and going… so… we escaped in a luxury lifeboat designed for the guy who owned the city. Then it fired into the sky. If they were successful that thing kept going. I hope the damn place crashes into the sun. They didn't live by the Geneva Convention standard, that's for sure."

"You're lucky they didn't hurt you, freeze you or kill you. I can't believe you went looking for me alone, like that."

"Not exactly, I TOLD you I was jumped by those dudes who had something to do with the plane hijacking. They led me back to Alphonse Moreau and the city. Everyone was in on it. I hate to make it sound like a conspiracy but… damn girl. I'm sure someone saw that thing rise up out of the ocean from a satellite."

DJ nodded slowly. "Something like that. That's why we're here. They need to get information from you. They need to know what happened because your story lines up with what they saw from ship and from satellite. God, I can't believe we're together again." She drew her sister fully back into her embrace. Keri snuggled into DJ's arms, careful about her injuries, so as not to agitate them further.

"Why didn't you come when I was under attack in Finland?"

"I didn't get your distress message, I'm sorry. I'm glad Conner did, though. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I got back together with my," DJ paused to take a breath but her sister picked up the conversation in a natural way, as if they were two people speaking from one mind.

"…Husband, yeah… I'm not going to lie, I feel a bit betrayed by you. I'm out in the Atlantic Ocean trying to track you down; I'm put into a cell… I'm fighting for my life without your help… and you're off joining the Coast Guard, getting married and having fun without me. That's some shit, girl."

DJ frowned. "Keri, I'm sorry. I'll figure out how to make it up to you… some how. Just… don't go running off again. Please."

"You left me first, after Conner was put in a coma!"

"I know, I know… I'm sorry. I just… I needed Ross in my life. I love him."

"I was supposed to be your maid of honor. Remember? When we were kids? Our promises meant nothing?"

"I thought you'd be upset with me for going back to him."

Keri grinned. "Damn," she took a moment and thought about it. "You're right. I would have torn your head off."

"So… yeah. I married him."

Keri laughed and ran her paws back through her headfur, backing away from her sister. "Look at you, in your uniform with your rings…. You're freakin' beautiful, girl. As much as I would have tried to stop you from marrying him… I wish I'd been at the wedding."

"We didn't have a big ceremony. We went to the Justice of the Peace. Maybe we can still do an actual wedding or something."

"Psht," Keri snorted. "No, you're just going to come to _mine_ and ogle about how pretty _I_ look in a white dress."

DJ tilted her head. "Are you dating someone? Are you going to get married?"

A grin tugged at Keri's maw. "Not yet. But when I find him… and trust me, he'll be hotter and stronger than your military boy toy… you're going to be MY maid of honor."

DJ nodded then drew her sister back into her arms. "You got it, sis. And by the way… he and I will be leaving the military when his tour ends. And we're going to go into business for ourselves soon."

"You two gunna try for another baby?"

Debbie held her paws aloft. "Slow down. I'm not fifteen anymore, we're going to do things right. We got the marriage part down. Now we're going to put some money aside for ourselves."

"You remember when you, me and Javari were…" Keri suddenly went silent, having DJ's paw around her muzzle.

"Keri," she nodded towards the mirror. "That's not there for you to admire yourself." She paused to watch her sister's reaction. Keri lifted a paw and waved at the mirror.

"HI ROSS!" Keri called in a muffled shout through clenched teeth.

DJ sighed with a groan. "Only you."

"Eat me," said Keri through the corners of her mouth.

"OH you little…"

On the other side of the window, the Commander turned to Ross Hunter, brows furrowed. "Lieutenant Commander, do your wife and her sister always fight like this?"

He offered a nod. "Yes, sir. 'Fraid so. We have a long history together, going back to our teenage years. She's the reason I joined the Guard, sir. I wanted to provide for my family. She miscarried and I was still in the military. So I made the best of it. We grew apart for a while but a few years ago, we got back together and realized the errors of our past. With a little maturity, we managed to get it together."

* * *

x-

**Carmen Cooper interlaced her fingertips with Kalen's paw**. He offered her a smile and, in return, she offered one back. "So, will Conner be in trouble for using his abilities and that biblical staff to save the Coast Guard?"

Kalen tilted his head. "I'm unsure, as I did not witness exactly what happened. I suspect that Karla will surely say whatever needs to be said in order to defend his actions if such is called into question, though. But Karla was most assuredly NOT the _only_ supernatural in the vicinity. They're quite an organized collection. I had to have their blessing in order to become your mate, for example. They're a very serious collection of people."

"After meeting Karla, I can't imagine that they're all without a sense of humor." A wry grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle. "That woman is just plain silly at times."

"Indeed, she is." Kalen sighed. "She's actually more flamboyant than the original Karla. At least that is what Steven says. The original Karla met her death one hundred sixty-two years prior to my birth in 1837. It seems the handful of elders in our court all have a deep respect for the original Karla and I have to wonder how deep that 'respect' goes."

"How do you mean, love?"

Kalen shook his head. "I fear she may have slept with almost all of them except Steven."

Carmen snorted. "She slept with Steven recently… the clone, I mean. From what I understand, _he_ got _her_ drunk and took advantage of the situation."

"It's true," came a voice from behind the two. They turned about, coming almost face to face with the regally dressed skunk. The man cleared his throat and said, "It wasn't my most defining moment and I would appreciate not being judged by my actions. But I won't deny that there is sexual attraction. Karla is intelligent and beautiful. I'm completely charmed by her son, Donovan. Winthrop Weasel doesn't deserve her affections."

Kalen's ears lay back. "Are you …_jealous_, doctor?" A smile returned to his lips. "We have learned from Conner and Karla that you very well may be _thee_ oldest man alive… and you're plagued by petty, childish jealousy?"

Steven frowned. "I suppose and yes, it's sad. I'm ashamed. But that's not why I followed you both."

"Then by all means," Kalen said with an amused tone. "What brings you to the park, here in Lyon, France? What is so important that two lovers can't enjoy the glow of the moon and one another's company in peace?"

Steven sighed and cut his gaze to Carmen. "I wish to speak to _you_, Miss Cooper. Might I have a moment with you in private?"

Carmen folded her arms. "Whatever you say to me will be passed on to Kalen because I trust him implicitly. So whatever you have to say, you might as well say it in front of him."

Steven glanced at the jackal then back at the hybrid vix-coon. "Very well. I wanted to know about Alester Crowley's work in Russia… you acted as his accomplice about three years ago and I want to know if I can receive his notes and journals so I can have access to his work."

Carmen unfolded her arms and stuffed her paws into her pockets. "Steven, he stole some of that work from _you_. Why would you care to analyze his work?"

"Indeed," said Steven. "He stole the technology inadvertently, which allowed him to create an endless power supply but the drill he powered with it… the one that uses sound to burrow into the earth… the one that Moreau killed for and stole in order to dig up Atlantis… That was _his_ work and I wish to learn more about it. Where can I find his work?"

The hybrid woman frowned. "I can take you to Russia where the man made his lab but why would you want it? Are you going to return to Atlantis?"

"Not necessarily; I'm merely fascinated by the invention and the technology used to power it." Steven ran a paw back through his headfur. "I wanted to know if you two would accompany me to Russia?"

Carmen looked him up and down then grinned. "Kalen says you're an academic master… let's make a trade. I want to attend a good University. You're a teacher. We… could talk."

"Why not attend a community college like Karla?"

Carmen snorted. "No." She shook her head. "No _thank you_. You're one of the most brilliant minds on this Earth and you're suggesting I go to a crappy community college?"

A hint of a smile touched upon Steven's face. "I stand corrected. But a school is only as good as their teacher. Community Colleges don't pay as well as the prestigious universities, which means that the community teacher is doing their job because of their love to teach, not because the paycheck is good. Ah, but perhaps I'm being too optimistic about this world. Will you help me?"

Carmen nodded slowly. "Because you helped Conner to rescue us, I owe you a favor. However, we'll have to do this immediately because when I go back to work, they'll keep tabs on my whereabouts. Right now, I'm still 'Missing – Presumed Dead.' Dammit," she placed a paw on Kalen's forearm. "Come with me, Mister Kincade, we obviously have work to do before I can relax and take you to the beach somewhere tropical."

"We still have to sit down and decide on a school."

Carmen glanced sidelong at her mate. "I've been trying to make a decision since before my parents went missing. I even made a faux choice at one point, right before Christmas, so I could get work to change my evening schedule because they were overworking me. C'mon, boys. I want to get this done and over with."

x-

* * *

"**I suppose I am nervous, Murray**." Jing lowered her eyes. She placed a paw on his forearm and he kissed her cheek for support. She flashed him a shy smile. "What if he's disappointed that I was captured all those years ago?"

Murray shook his head. "N'aw, Panda King is totally cool, Jing. If anything, he'll just be glad that you're back and that you're alive. I overheard Penelope say that he visited your grave in Paris. Like, the whole gang has gravestones there. Do _you_ think your dad would be upset about you being alive?"

She shook her head slowly. "Are you sure you don't want to come in with me? I'm sure you would be very welcome in his home."

Murray lifted a hand and waved it. "Nah. This is a special moment, Jing. Dad and daughter stuff. Take your time. I'm gunna go check out the aftermarket car parts at that place down the way."

Jing tilted her head. "Most everything owned by that shop is stolen, Murray."

He nodded four times. "My kind'a people, right? How about I come back in two hours, that will give you 'n yer dad time to do Chinese family stuff. What do you guys do, anyhow? Tea and talk, right?"

She placed her palm against his cheek and smiled. "Ni zhen piao liang."

"I love when you speak like that. I bet your dad does it too."

Jing offered a playful faux scorn then said, "Yes… all I ever heard him say was, 'Jing! Bie zhe yang! _Bu xing. Dao san shi wu sui zai zhao dui xiang ba!_' It was annoying.

Murray blinked and rubbed the side of his face. "Uh, what does that mean?" His palm came up overtop of her paw.

Jing leaned over the armrest of her chair and kissed Murray's forehead. She then eased her paw from the side of his face, opened the van door and gracefully disembarked to the cobblestone street. "Murray, it means, '_Don't behave like this, Jing! No, you may NOT date until you are __thirty-five__!'_ After that embarrassing bit with that idiot General, it became much worse. Anyway… Wo ai ni, Bao bao; see you in two hours." She shut the door behind herself and walked up the sidewalk, towards a large fountain in front of her father's home.

Murray had to think about what she said at the end because he'd heard her say it several times. He smiled and, quietly, said, "Aww… I love you, too, honey." He watched her until she made it to the front door and let herself inside. Once the door shut, he pulled away.

Jing took a deep breath and put her bag down on the floor in the foyer. She began walking to each room until she found him in the back yard, knees crossed in deep meditation. Jing leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Ba ba, Gao xing yi dianr." Jing placed her paws on her father's shoulders.

His eyes opened and in a soft voice, he asked, "Xiao xiong? Zhe shi ni de ba ba!" Panda's eyes went wide and he looked around then turned about, surprised to see her as if looking at a ghost.

She continued the conversation in Chinese. "Daddy, you've not called me 'Teddy Bear' since I was so very small. And why do you look at me that way? I'm here; and for goodness sake, Daddy, I _know_ who you are."

"Are… you my daughter's spirit?"

Jing placed her paws on her hips. "Daddy! It's ME. I'm right here." She reached out and took him by the wrists. He came to his feet and looked her over, obviously in shock.

"You… I thought you died. They found your license in Florida and it had blood on it. _Your_ blood. It was my understanding that you died in battle."

She lifted her paws. "Stop, daddy. Wait, let me explain. I helped the Coopers by going out to sea in order to avenge Conner Cooper's death. Only… he wasn't dead. He was in a coma and the hospital said he was most likely brain dead forever. So we went out there and sought revenge. Alphonse Moreau managed to stun us and put our bodies into cryogenic stasis. We were frozen for three years but we did not die. I'm not a ghost."

Panda threw his arms around her and hugged her close. After a few moments of silence, he whispered into her ear. "Xiao xiong."

She smiled at the nickname in silence. It felt good to be hugged again, especially when she knew it made him happy. "Conner Cooper woke up and came to where we were located. He did what the rest of us could not do… he liberated us with only the help of Dawn and Karla."

"Yes, I was nearby when he woke, although I didn't know it at the time. Penelope was overjoyed. Conner became dead-set on liberating his family and friends because he believed deeply in his heart that everyone was still alive. And at the time, I refused to believe it… but I am glad he was right. How is Murray?"

She smiled against his face. "Very good. He'll be glad you asked about him. He dropped me off so that we could have time together. It's his way of showing respect to you because he felt we needed time together. Come inside the house; I'll make you some tea."

* * *

x-

**Steven turned over the sliver of Orichalcum** and frowned thoughtfully. He glanced back over at a group of monitors, one of which was the display for an electron microscope. Another monitor displayed a periodic table of elements, with several icons illuminated. There were two additional blank blocks on the side with question marks inside, indicating that two elements were still unknown within his specimen.

A sigh escaped the skunk's lips. "Even if I have to synthesize these alien elements… I _will _discover the secrets of your technology again. I've lived this long… I won't give up until I have mastered a way to develop Orichalcum in mass quantities. If only I had One-Eye Cooper's ability to smell gold and differentiate various types of metals by elemental value… I bet with her abilities, I'd have figured out the mysteries of Orichalcum ages ago." He glanced over at another monitor, showing the interior of Karla's home. The toddler, Donovan, was playing with an erector set, looking frustrated because one of the metal pieces apparently bent. Steven smiled slightly at the toddler's emotional display.

The little boy waved his paw and sent the erectors across the floor. The skunk started to chuckle then tilted his head. He pressed a few keys on the keyboard and reached for a computer mouse. He initiated a picture-in-picture view with the smaller section showing live feed. In the larger picture, he reversed the frames then watched it again in slow motion. His brows scrunched up over his head. "Oh my God…"

Again, the video played out. Donovan _waved his paw_ and the erectors went flying… but his paw _never_ touched the toys directly… "The toddler has Karla's powers?" He stood up and reached for a phone. After a moment he said, "Honorable Justicar, it is Niall. Aye, your honor. I'm watching over Karla's son from a camera I secretly installed in her home. Yes, sir." He paused for nearly a moment more then said, "Her toddler is showing signs of telekinesis. …Yes sir… in my opinion, I would call a court session. We should also discuss Conner Cooper, the return of the artifacts and anything else that may be relevant to the here-and-now. …Yes sir. Very good. I will see you then." He placed the telephone back on the cradle and glanced back at the display, watched the replay one more time then set the full image back to live broadcast. "I wonder if she even knows."

* * *

x-

** Sly reached for the front door, opened it, and then lifted Carmelita into his arms **with a grin. She quickly slipped her left arm around his neck and stifled a giggle as her legs were lifted high. She grinned at him. "Well, well… you've not carried me over the threshold since I was pregnant with Carmen."

"We were newly weds; it was appropriate." Sly turned to the side and carried her through the doorway then turned around, using his wife's feet to kick the door shut. "To the bedroom?"

She broke into laughter, which echoed off the living room walls briefly. "The BED room? OH my lord, Sly… so what's the occasion? Your answer will dictate where we go from here."

Cooper chuckled and said, "Because I love you."

The vixen leaned up in his embrace and kissed his lips then whispered, "Good answer." She used her free paw to cup the side of his face as they kissed in the foyer. It lasted for several moments.

Sly carried her over to the thermostat on the wall and stopped adjacent to the device. Carmelita turned towards the small computer display and thumbed the temperature controls then said, "At least Carmen was prudent enough to keep it only high enough to keep the pipes from freezing. I'm surprised we still have power after not paying the bill for three years."

With a grin, Sly turned her away from the wall and took her up the stairs. "Carmelita, I set up the bills so that they auto-draft from our account. It looks like we've been paying our bills every month on time for decades."

A grin. She nuzzled his cheek with her nose then said, "Can you imagine how much paperwork is going to be involved in proving to creditors and the government that we're still alive? Gerard was right… it's going to be a pain. I'm still kinda' off balance about what happened to him, though."

Sly nosed her in return. "Don't think about it. We can't fix it… we can only move forward and live life to the fullest and raise our family to the best of our ability. Besides, we're not _old_… we're middle-aged."

"Middle-aged huh? You planning to live until we're in the triple digits, huh?"

A broad grin found his muzzle and he nodded. "Why not? We both stay in shape. The kids raise themselves now. No more stress." He continued to carry her up the stairs until they reached the hallway that led to their bedroom. "You went to a medical exam in Lyon this morning but you haven't said a word about it and it's been eight hours. Something on your mind?"

She reached over and opened the bedroom for him then eased back in his arms again. Her husband carried her into their bedroom and laid her down at the center of the bed. Her hair fanned out around her head and she smiled up at him. "I was thinking about the right way to tell you, sweetheart."

"I'm all-ears," he said, leaning down to gently nibble on the vixen's right ear. She shuddered beneath him and murred in reply.

Her paws lifted, cupping either side of his face. She brought the gray-furred man into view so that she could look into his big brown eyes. "Sly, I thought we lost our son, you know… Do you remember what we did the day before we left for that underwater city?"

"You went to a doctor's appointment."

She smiled. "Good memory. I found out that I was pregnant, so it somehow helped to lessen the incredible sting I felt from perceiving Conner as… 'lost'. I mean, when the doctor told me he was brain-dead, I felt a part of my heart die deep inside… and when I found out I was pregnant… I felt like there might be hope." She took a deep breath then said, "I went to the clinic today… I had to make sure that the cryogenic stasis didn't harm the fetus…. I'm still pregnant. The fetus is still in the first trimester but it's healthy, has a strong heartbeat and is doing very well." She bit her lower lip, waiting to see how her husband would reply.

Sly lit up. He laughed then kissed her firmly then enveloped her in his arms until they were side by side, facing one another on the bed. "That's amazing! We're going to have a baby again?"

She giggled against his lips and nodded. "Yes, daddy, you're going to have another Cooper running around the house… only this time, you'll have help from Carmen and Conner."

He kissed her all over her face, starting on her cheeks, then her nose, forehead and, finally, he came to her muzzle and locked lips with her. The kiss was sensational; her tail fluffed up and her toes curled. She could feel the passion, love and adoration in his touch. She drew Sly close, putting her paws firmly on his back then gasped in delight when he rolled to the side, pinning her on her back. Carmelita lifted her eyes, gazing up at him. The fondness shined in those twin mocha pools; she adored him wholly and completely.

Sly looked down upon his wife. "I love you. I'm so lucky to have you in my life. I'm lucky to have such a wonderful wife and I'm lucky that you're the mother of my children. And yes, mamacita, I look forward to having another Cooper running around the house." His lips met hers. Sly felt her paws move up his back and cup the backside of his head. He felt her fingernails brush gently against the backside of his ears and her tongue ease past his lips.

After being robbed of the right to bond with his son during the boy's early teenage years, he would have the chance again. Gender didn't even matter; Sly reveled in the chance to be a daddy again. It was fun. Plus he was giving his children the chances and experiences he missed out on. But right now, the only thing on his mind was the touch of his wife. He loved it. He felt consumed by it. He brought his paws up and placed his palms on either side of her face as they kissed.

He felt her heart pounding against his chest. He felt the warmth of her breath against the side of his face. He felt the rise and fall of her torso, her deep passionate breaths. His paws slid down from either side of her face. Hers left the back of his head, coming to the top of his paws; she guided his hands to her jacket as if motioning for him to remove it. Her paws then slipped back around him, reaching for the hem of his shirt at the small of his back.

His lips trailed down to her neckline. His wife's sultry words were a whispered in his ear. "Love me." Sly shuddered in delight at the request. Finally, life was returning to normal. Finally, all the madness was over. Finally, he could focus on being a husband again. And that… made him happy.

* * *

x-

_Thirty-six hours later…_

**Conner turned to Dawn and Karla then he glanced back at **the holy man. He offered the gentleman a smile and withdrew a staff cloaked in velvet from a hard-shell case with a leather handle. "I told you I'd bring it back."

The elderly man offered a semi-gnarled smile, which barely peaked out beyond his beard. "Indeed you have. I take it that Metatron was most helpful to you, young one?"

"He told me to call him Enoch, Mister Mikail."

The old man grinned. "Then he must have liked you, my dear boy."

Conner lifted his left paw. "Young _man_. Today is my eighteenth birthday." His muzzle contorted into a proud grin. "I couldn't have done anything without you lending me that staff. I appreciate it. I can't even begin to tell you how important this is. The fact that you stood in the way of Alphonse Moreau as holder of _thee_ very last artifact is a testament to a lot… the fact he couldn't get this staff himself helped saved the world because if he got it a year ago… before I woke up… then there'd be nothing left, and I'd have never come out of that coma."

"Silly boy," said the man with a grin, ignoring Conner's correction of manhood. "God woke you before that blue-butted buffoon could get his hands on this." He pushed back the velvet veil and smiled upon the rod. "That's why I knew you'd keep it safe from falling into Moreau's hands, even if you went straight to his lair with it. Because God had a mighty hand in all of this." With his other paw, he pushed the pillbox hat back a little bit.

"I don't exactly know what to believe. I mean… maybe we're holding technology that predates all of us and we think its Godly. I've seen a lot of that sort of technology in the last few days. I mean… it's possible."

The red-furred Ethiopian wolf, with his black paws, matching neck, tail and muzzle, stretched a bit. There was a slight line of sweat from where his hat had been sitting too far forward on his head before pushing it back a moment ago. He offered a grin again. "Then how come Moreau, a man of superior intellect, technology and drive was bested by a boy with two metal sticks? You were David… he was Goliath. God woke you from your coma in Paris before everything was too late. Yes, I know you were in a three-year coma in the capital of France, Conner Cooper. You see, God typically allows for freewill and steps back to let us live our lives, because life and freewill are his gifts to us. But sometimes… things _do_ spiral out of control. And on these rare occasions… destiny truly _is_ guided by God's mighty hand. If someone doesn't step up to solve mortal problems… or if the one capable of solving said problems is unable… God steps in and shows them the way. He knew that Moses was up against unbeatable odds, so he stepped in then. He knew that the likes of…"

Karla frowned. "Please, enough. You've made your point."

The old man smiled at the beautiful hybrid. "Would you like to step inside, dear?"

Karla shook her head. "You know that I can't."

Dawn quirked her brows and leaned towards Karla. "Why not?"

"Ask Conner's mother. Actually, never mind. Only her doppelganger knew."

"Huh?" The female raccoon scratched the side of her forehead by her ear.

Karla shook her head and smiled mysteriously. "Nothing, dear." She turned back to Mikail Johannes Kioko and said, "Darling, I politely decline your offer. I'm afraid I'm not "spirited" enough to venture beyond the doorway."

To their surprise, the old man withdrew a _cellular phone_ and abruptly snapped a photograph of Karla. "The boys in the cathedral will never believe I saw you in person… in the fur… you look much better without the scales, '_darling.'_ Conner," he turned back to the raccoon. "I want to thank you, 'young man'. I appreciate you taking the time to return this to the sanctuary. Then again, I knew you were a man of your word." Finally, he turned to Dawn and added, "He's marriage material. Taboo or not, he's worth your paw in wedlock." The old man took the cane and retreated back into the inner sanctum, shutting the door behind himself. The locking bolt slid into place.

Karla sighed. "Okay, now that _that_ is over with. Let's get the hell out of Africa and back to Paris. I want to spend some time with Donovan and I owe my husband for saving my tail. On the plane ride to Europe, yesterday, he was talking about the 'possibility' of wanting more kids. Heck, since I'm able, I might as well."

Dawn grinned then turned back to Conner. "Marriage material, huh? Maybe just one more _bachelor party_ before the big event?"

"Only if I get to be the stripper," said Karla.

"I can think of no one better for the job," Dawn chuckled, her eyes flitting towards the hybrid felox.

Conner blushed and turned away to clear his throat. "Uh, yeah… so… Paris, right… let's hurry back to the airfield so we can catch a plane back to France."

Dawn and Karla grinned at one another, nodded deviously in unison and flanked him. Each girl took him by the arm, hooking her forearm through his. Dawn nuzzled the side of his face and said, "Let's take a _private_ jet then, lover boy."

Karla, with a grin, nuzzled against the other side of his face and said, "A _very_ private jet."

Conner swallowed and offered a slight grin, trying to downplay their joke. "Uh, sure, we can arrange a leer jet for, uh, rental." …Or were they joking at all…?

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

Written by: **Ken Weaver Jr**. (Pen Name: _Kit Karamak_)

August 2011

Book 3 of 3

KitKaramak AT gmail DOT com

* * *

X-

_Thanks so much for reading but I thought I'd add some bonus content for your amusement! So, here we go_…

_**Alternative Ending Idea outtake**__**: **_

_(Note: I originally thought about having Conner fight Moreau in an ending where Sly would NOT be around to help. I had a lot of different ideas. I jotted them out in the epilogue __**LONG**__ before I finished chapter 35, 36 and 37. Initially, I had no plans to write out an actual fight with Moreau because I couldn't think of anything good… I started jotting down ideas during the time I was writing the scene where Conner and Karla made their way down to Lower Atlantis; at the time I had NO plans on having ANYONE ELSE but Conner and Karla see Atlantis. Here's one way I thought of ending the story…)_

* * *

**"I hit my head,"** muttered Conner. He rubbed his paws together, looking from Karla and Winthrop to his mother, father and sister. "Seriously, there are some pretty vague splotches – I don't really remember how we got out of there." He cleared his throat and looked to Karla. Beyond them, next to Carmen and Kalen, sat Dawn. "But there is a lot of stuff I _do_ remember vividly. Like fighting Moreau."

"You put up a good fight," replied Karla.

Sly's eyes widened. "Whoa! You went toe-to-toe with Alphonse Moreau? All by yourself, without help?"

"He did," said Karla.

"I remember feeling angrier than I've ever felt in my life. The whole place was glowing. We were in the temple at the heart of Atlantis." Conner licked his lips then glanced at Dawn again, offering her a nervous sort of smile.

Karla frowned and shook her head. "Conner, we were in Moreau's dome… There is no such thing as a _real_ Atlantis."

The boy glared at her. "What? You were THERE, Karla! Why would you say such a thing! Remember the box we had to retrieve for Steven?"

The tall skunk walked into the room from the door on the far left end, having overheard some of the conversation. "Karla is quite correct," he told the room. "There is no such thing as Atlantis. You _did_ bring me back the artifacts in a shiny black box and I was able to separate and hide them… but there is no such thing as Atlantis."

Karla nodded. "See? You dreamed it when you were unconscious."

Conner blinked rapidly. "But you're _from_ Atlantis," he told Steven. "You had me grab that box of metal for you from your …house or… workshop or whatever that place was!"

"Have mercy, I'm not _that_ old, Conner. Plato claims it sank into the Atlantic Ocean nine thousand years before Critias, his story character. It's also claimed that Atlantis is spoken of by the _ancient _Egyptian hieroglyphics. Not that the Egyptians were experts on the subject either but… you're talking thousands of years before the birth of Christ."

"The box was shiny with black coating, covering plates of Orichalicum. Don't you remember?"

Steven paused and tilted his head. "I've not heard of that metal in ages… it was a fictitious metal, my dear boy. Beyond Moreau's dream dome, which we destroyed, there was _never_ a real Atlantis. When Plato said it was beyond the Pillars of Hercules, he meant to say that it was located in the world of the unknown. His proclamation that there was a continent beyond it… that was a 'guess' at best. Vespucci came to America and discovered it ages later. It was then named after him: America. If ever there was a land bridge between Europe and America… there would be signs of it. Besides the Native Americans have a genetic link to _Asian_ people, forty-to-fifty thousand years removed… not European people. There was _never_ a super power island almost ten thousand years ago. There's no Atlantis." He shook his head slowly.

"I've got a picture I sent you," said Conner with a smirk. He opened his phone but it had a cracked screen. "Damn… I'll extract the files to my laptop later… But I'll show you."

Kalen, in an almost apologetic voice, added, "I'm sure you just hit your head as Karla suggested… Needless to say you did all the work and should be proud of yourself."

"Indeed!" Steven waved to everyone then left the room.

"See?" Karla smiled.

Insulted, Conner turned to Karla. "No, we were there… why are you being so stubborn?"

"Because," she replied. "I can!" then added, "We were in Moreau's inner sanctum but there was _never_ a city of Atlantis. You dreamed it… what happened in your dream, Conner?"

He clenched his paws and turned towards Sly, Carmelita and Dawn. "What about you guys? Or maybe Winthrop? You guys remember it, right?"

"Uh…" Sly rubbed his forehead. "We were attacked by Crusher, the boat capsized in the Atlantic… I remember being injured and fighting to stay above water until your mother pulled me out by the scruff of the neck…"

"Adrenaline," said Carmelita with a slight grin.

"Indeed so," replied Kalen. "Conner, they're right. There was never a _real_ Atlantis. You can believe whatever you like, no one will stop you, but you underwent a great deal of emotional stress and head trauma… believe me when I tell you that no one here ever left Moreau's dome, which he named, "New Atlantis." At least not until we escaped it, destroyed it and barely survived to tell the tale."

Conner glowered at them. "I remember it, goddammit." He took Dawn by her paw and stormed off. Once they were alone in a hallway, he said, "Do you remember anything about it?"

"I vaguely remember seeing you with a second Cooper Cane. I'm not sure how you got it, but you said it was made from that material you retrieved in a city under the bedrock. Conner, I don't care what they say. I believe you and I love you."

"So we're going to be an item now?"

She smiled inwardly. "Slow down, lover boy. I told you I'd move to France with you if we ever got out of that mess… let's start there. But let's take it slow, hmm?"

* * *

x-

(_Again, that was written out as a __possible__ ending back before I had all the other characters show up in lower Atlantis. In fact, I wrote that ending around the time I wrote __CHAPTER __**31**__, when Karla and Conner were climbing down that central utility tube, thinking that they'd be the ONLY two characters to actually SEE Atlantis. But… you know me… later on, I changed my mind, went on a tangent, had a lot of fun creating Atlantis… I made this Alternative Ending because I never planned on showing Conner and Moreau's fight… I didn't know how I wanted to write it… so I planned on skipping it and having it insinuated… but then I felt creative and I wanted to extend the story passed 31 chapters… so… I just kept going… Over a year later, I made a lot more things happen and this alternative ending became obsolete. That's because you guys were telling me you didn't want the story to end yet… so I dragged it out for 6 more chapters… and I'm glad I did. I enjoyed it. Thank you all for reading this story and, hopefully, the whole trilogy! Lament of Carmelita, Spy Cooper and Dawn of Progeny! _

_I love you guys! Feel free to contact me any time about anything! Thanks again for reading!_

_I really appreciate everyone who took time out of his or her day to read my material. I started Lament of Carmelita in 2005 on a bet. Not many people remember a guy in the Sly Cooper Fan Fiction fandom named "_Octavarius Kaiser _Scott_" _but, all those years ago he was a very blunt and critical writer who sometimes lambasted other Sly Cooper fiction writers if they made something he considered trite or cliché. It all started with him. _

_So, I decided to read a little of his work and wrote him a private message through the FanFiction Net client. Then the conversation moved to email. And, boy oh boy, did he get nasty. After several dozen nasty emails, full of threats and insults, (which amused me, so I continued the banter simply to placate myself, because I needed a good laugh that day) he said something to the effect of, "I bet you can't even write a good story ANY how! So you probably SUCK AS A WRITER and you're not worth my time!" So, in about fifteen minutes time, I wrote chapter one for Lament of Carmelita out of the blue. This is without having played the Sly Cooper games. I just looked up Sly and Carmelita's background on Wikipedia briefly then typed up about two thousand words worth of rather dark material (knowing that's the kind of stuff he liked), and because his profile said he hated when people reprised Clockwerk in the typical cliché role, I knew I had to make Clockwerk the enemy in that short story. _

_Keep in mind, that short story had NO DIRECTION and I had NO DESIRE to write a story because I was working on my StarFox Reflections series. I was just wrapping up Reflections of the Future, and was enjoying the feedback from it. _

_Well, OKS was good enough of a man to actually read two thousand words in email. And he was good enough to write back. And he was KIND enough to say, "OH… my… GOD. This …this was amazing. I'm sorry; I take back what I said earlier. You're unequivocally an exceptional writer of amazing talent. It was SO dark… twisted… gory… amazing! YOU HAVE to write MORE. Finish it! I have to know what happens next, PLEASE! Make this a full length story!" _

_I was quite pleased with my little victory, so I re-read the piece, fixed a few grammatical errors, a spelling error and posted it, right then and there, as the beginning of a story, with no plot, no direction and very limited understanding of the characters, the storyline or the premise. _

_The next day I went out and found the games at the local Game Stop on the PS2 USED GAME wall. I purchased them. I'd already had several furry fan readers posting on my Star Fox stories, "Hey, can you do some Sly Cooper stuff? I bet you'd do Sly Cooper some justice! C'mon write something!" Without those people getting behind my other stories, I wouldn't have kept going after the first chapter of Lament of Carmelita. I wouldn't have looked through the Sly Cooper fan fiction section. I wouldn't have started glancing through some of the stories found there. I wouldn't have heard people complaining about OKS lambasting writers and making them feel bad. I wouldn't have felt compelled to write to him… and without those people, ultimately, Lament of Carmelita would have never been written and I would have never discovered an amazing, fun, intelligently acted video game franchise. I'd never know what I was missing out on. SO THANK YOU!_

_I know a great deal of my readers are furries. So, MANY THANKS go out to the Furry Fandom. I appreciate the feedback I receive on my stories. You help me to become a better writer. And when I finish my first original manuscript and when I shop it for publication and IF and / or WHEN I get my work on the shelves of bookstores… I won't forget my roots. Ever. For I, too, am a furry. And those that don't like furries… that's cool. I don't care who you like or dislike. I'm just glad you have taken the time to read my work. And if you've read this far… well, I appreciate that too. _

_In fact, I have a little bonus for you if you've read this far… I'll sneak you a little tidbit of storyline. A little …after thought. _

_Y'know how, like, in some movies… after the credits finish rolling, you'll get rewarded with a little tidbit of storyline tacked on to the very end of the film reel? _

_Well… that's what I'm going to give you right now… _

* * *

_x-_

_**AFTERMATH**_

_(Canonical DoP Ending!) _

**Karla Chintzy-Weasel**appeared in a large conference room. The expensive, circular mahogany table at the center of the room was surrounded by chairs. Two thirds of those chairs had people. Her eyes moved from left to right, offering an up-nod to a Czech wolfdog. "Erik," she murmured. Her eyes passed down a few chairs to a golden-furred jackal of impeccable taste and fashion. "Kalen," she smiled. Karla noticed Steven four chairs down and nodded in a psudo-respectful way. "Asshole with a small penis." She spoke in a pleasant tone and offered a faux smile. Her eyes continued across those assembled in the room, stopping on a beautiful woman of neither fur nor perceivable scales. "Idona." She recognized the woman but hadn't spoken to her on a personal level before. Karla froze. Three seats down from the mermaid was Carmelita Fox. Nearly incredulous, Karla approached her. "What the hell are _you_ doing here? I thought you _drowned_."

"You thought wrong," Carmelita murmured softly. She glanced to Idona then back up at Karla. "I'm nothing like my counterpart and I don't exactly have the fondest memories of you, since you and your husband broke my neck. Have a seat." She paused then nodded across the circular table. "Somewhere over there, preferably." She offered a polite smile.

Karla settled down in a chair _between_ Idona and Carmelita, teleported the empty chairs to her left and right into the center of the room and used her telekinesis to draw Idona and Carmelita closer to her. She put her arms around both of their shoulders and smiled to the head of the court. "I'm ready when you are. Sorry I was a little late; I had to feed the baby. Oh, sorry, I forgot… I'm the only one here capable of having kids so you guys wouldn't know what that's like."

Carmelita snorted and, under her breath, murmured, "Not the _only one_ anymore."

Karla smiled and laughed in a jovial way then, under her own breath, added, "Ahhh, yes, but you'll never get laid, work-a-holic." Her voice rose back to a level loud enough for the rest of the group to hear her, and then said, "So please… let's begin, honorable Justicar!"

A man stood up in robes similar to a magistrate. He glanced around the room and cleared his throat. Everyone's eyes settled upon the regal looking lion. In a calm, relaxed voice, he addressed the council body. "Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, it's good to see that we're slowly swelling our ranks again after the loss of Nathanael, Sire and Donovan. It's also good to see Niall return to our table after several years of avoiding us."

Again, Karla said something under her breath, which went ignored by the others. The Justicar continued speaking. "Troubling times are, with any luck, now behind us. The stolen artifacts have been returned to their rightful places and many of them have been hidden far better than before. Even _I_ do not know the location of all the artifacts. They've been divided amongst several groups, who split up to deliver multiple artifacts in multiple directions so that no one will know the location of more than a handful at any one time. It's safer that way. The clans have not been at war for two full decades now. Peace has been mutual between all of us and those we represent. So… to get things moving along, I'd like to bring to table the second order of business, since we only meet once a season.

"We've been watching these recent events with a sharp eye. Karla performed most admirably this year. She's provided us with several surprises over the last three years since members of the Cooper clan awaked her. And now… a member of the only clan to avoid the clan wars for centuries… Conner Cooper… has begun displaying abilities that would bring his clan to our table. So, as the first order of business… I would like to vote on approaching him as a member of our society." The Justicar folded his hands and grew silent.

The room turned into a fury of soft whispering, people talking amongst themselves in an excited fashion. It was obvious that people didn't know what to think of the Justicar's proposal.

Karla, obviously already bored with the proceedings, winked at a male across from her. He furrowed his brows in return. She smiled. "You're cute."

He snorted. "I have a girlfriend."

"Perfect! I have a math test tonight, at the community college I'm attending!"

Again, he quirked his brows. "What?"

Karla's smiled broadened. "Oh, sorry, I thought we were listing things to cheat on." She licked her lips at him, just to make him feel uncomfortable. Her eyes cut back to the Justicar. "Hey, you make a decision yet?"

The regal man narrowed his gaze, not daring to make direct eye contact with her. He nodded to Idona. "You were there; you saw what happened… what is your assessment of the Cooper child's actions?"

Idona closed her eyes and her tail, beneath the chair, slashed at the air as slight from above sent a blinding image of purples, blues and greens from above. The hybrid feline-fox squinted and turned her head away from the mermaid. With ease, Idona shrugged Karla's arm away, cleared her throat and lifted her voice to address the council chambers. "Members of the court, it _is_ in fact true that the American Coast Guard witnessed Conner Cooper's use of the Nehushtan to part the sea. He successfully separated the cloned squid, CRUSHER, from the ship and saved the lives of crew thereby allowing them to return to port and report what they've seen. However, Karla was successful in masking any clear indication of what happened. Conner and Karla created an enormous spray of water. From what the crew could tell, it could have been a natural phenomenon or a splash created by the other squid-like-creature. Surely a crewmember may have been in the right place on the deck to see the ocean open up with the creatures thrown one way and the ship pushed the other. But military doctors will explain it away as an experienced conjured by stress. I have determined that Conner Cooper's 'last resort' strike against 'Crusher' was _not_ a breach of the rules of our kind. I have also determined that Karla did everything in her power to ensure his actions would be covered up appropriately."

The Justicar nodded. "You witnessed the event but did nothing to quell these two creatures to keep them from attacking in the first place?"

Karla cleared her throat, knowing she was out of line. "They had antennas on their heads, placed there by Alphonse Moreau. These creatures weren't even in control of themselves. They were programmed to attack anything that didn't transmit a radio wave of some sort. Only Moreau's allies have the proper frequency setting in order to pass through that area safely. Conner, with my help, electrocuted the creatures to short out the antenna and whatever components were in use to cause the aggressiveness. It's handled and they won't be attacking anyone else, as they're not typically an aggressive species to begin with." She turned to the mermaid adjacent to her, smiled, and added, "Thanks for the glowing review of my field work, you sexy thing, you."

The court murmured amongst itself for several moments. After what seemed like ten minutes, Karla cleared her throat again and turned back to the Justicar. "So, have you made a decision? If you want _my_ input, since I've spent the most time with him… I say we _start_ by monitoring Conner and in a few months, perhaps even a few years, he should be vetted as a candidate for joining us in the society. But there is certainly no reason to rush into a decision _now_."

The Justicar rubbed his chin for a moment. "Carmelita Fox, as your first assignment, you will keep watch on the son of your doppelganger. How you choose to do this is entirely up to you but I want a report of his abilities, how his advancement is progressing and you will report to us in sixty days to help us choose a proper course of action regarding this matter. Karla Chintzy-Weasel, you may continue your acquaintanceship of young Mister Cooper, but it will be Miss Fox's non-bias report that will be heard when we reconvene. Court adjourned."

Karla stood up with a languished stretch. Steven approached her from off to the left and she dropped her arms in a frumpy way. "What do you want, old man? Stop bothering me."

A sigh passed the skunk's lips. "Karla, stop. I spent a good amount of time with Donovan in Florida and…"

"I know you were running tests on him like a goddamn _lab rat_."

He tilted his head. "Such racism against rats is unbecoming of you. Your son has powers."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'll develop something by the time he hits puberty. It's genetics after all. But most of us didn't inherit our abilities from our parents. Most natural born supernaturals can't produce offspring. So you just need to leave me alone; he may not even develop anything. If he does, I'll report it to the court when he's of age. As of now, I don't want you stalking my family."

"You're not listening. I didn't say he MAY develop powers. I said he HAS them. Now. Right now. That's why we called this court and if you weren't so late to the meeting, you would have known that we were discussing you and your son as the first order of business. Never, to date, has a supernatural been reported at this age. People have always developed their abilities around the age of adolescence because they manifest with the onset of puberty."

She narrowed her eyes at the man. Meanwhile, people were leaving the room all around the two. She put her paws on her hips. "Why didn't you tell me before now? I only just found out about this meeting and I made it, didn't I? Now what the hell were you talking about before I showed up?"

"I told the Justicar that I saw your son telekinetically push erectors away with a swipe of his paw."

Karla opened her mouth then froze. A scowl crept across her face. The dark expression was one that made even Steven nervous. "Winthrop _just_ bought those erectors for him _yesterday_. That means you're spying on us you piece of crap! I'm going to tear your balls off you creepy old lecher."

Steven took her by the wrist and led her away from other people that were still filing out of the room. She reluctantly went with him. "What? What's so goddamn important that you didn't want others to overhea what you've got to say next? I'm sure it'll be an excuse for your actions, but I really don't want excuses; I want answers then I want you to leave us alone."

Steven turned her about and came face to face with her. "I've not slept with anyone in a _very, very_ long time. You're the first. You want to know why? It's because there is something I've neglected to tell you."

"Yeah, that you've been spying on my family, you asshat. And that you're a pedophile since I look young. Pervert."

Steven crossed his eyes in frustration, took a deep breath then said, "When I designed you to become the perfect mate, I also added intensified pheromone output in your feline scent glands – you _are_ half feline, after all. So when you rub up against someone, you attack their senses with pheromones and it can overpower their senses if there isn't proper ventilation. That night you stayed with me during the hurricane because my room didn't have windows… the night we had sex… Yes I got you drunk and that was awful of me… but it's because I was drawn to your sweetly scented… musk. For a lack of a better term. It had an effect on my mind and I did what I did because of _you_. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before now… but you enthralled me. Again, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I was studying your son."

"Are you _really_ the same guy who wore a weapon's suit and shot everyone in the sewers?"

Steven blinked. "Excuse me?"

"That was a paradox that I inadvertently witnessed the change for… nevermind. Just… what the hell happened to make you so apologetic and nice?"

"I've had problems in the past," he murmured, "With my temper and with cellular degradation on the genetic level but that was ages ago. I had a relapse about three decades ago but, again, that was repaired. What are you talking about?"

This time Karla sighed. "Look, I guess I have no beef with you, Steven. Niall. Asshole. Whatever, okay? I'm not trying to fight with you anymore. I'm sorry I got all up in your face. But I'm serious when I say… I want my privacy. I know you 'made' me. That makes you feel like you're somehow Donovan's grandfather; on a side-related note, that still makes you a pervert because you should see me as a daughter not as a piece of ass – moving on. If Donovan is ever sick or suffers from 'cellular degradation' or his DNA falls apart, believe me… you're the first person I'll call. But I want to be left alone. I went on my final adventure as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to help people anymore. I'll continue to see the Guru a few more times; in fact, I have consultation with him this afternoon. But I don't want to be apart of this crap anymore. One day soon, Winthrop will be too old and I'll get needy and find someone to make a nice Step Father for Donovan. Winthrop will take care of me until he's too old and since I'm mortal now… Hell, maybe I can keep myself in check since I'm going to grow old with him, right?"

"I understand. But you'll age _slowly_. Your first summation may be accurate – he may out-age you, leaving you to desire another mate closer to your age."

"Wait, I won't age normally? How slowly?"

Steven smiled slightly. "You're almost four years old. You won't start aging _normally_ until you hit your actual age."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Steven put an arm around her shoulder and led her outside, the last two to leave the building. "You're supposed to be about fifteen years old as of when you were made. Your genetic original copy stopped aging when she had her first period, which was at the age of fifteen. When she was slain and buried, she still had the body of a fifteen-year-old girl. The DNA sample I was given to clone you was that of an ageless fifteen-year-old girl. So… once you've been alive for fifteen years, you'll start to age normally."

"So in eleven more years, I'll look like a sixteen year old. In twelve more years, I'll look like a seventeen year old. In thirteen years, I'll look barely legal."

"You look legal now."

Karla nodded, shrugging off his arm. "I changed how I dress and I changed my hair and I've tried doing things to make myself look more mature. The first thing Conner said when we met up after he woke from his coma was that I looked like I'm finally legal. It was a compliment to me. Then again, raising a baby might have aged me, too… heh. Well, you've taken away my childhood but I guess this is a good way to make up for it – looking like a teenager for twenty years… What do you think about Conner being part of the supernatural society… do you think it'll work?" She cut her eyes back to Steven and folded her arms.

He nodded in reply. "They'll watch him until he's older, more mature and more developed. Of course they'll have 'Enforcer Fox' watching over him as her first assignment and _you_ will stay friends with him to ensure he knows the rules… '_Not to use any powers in public_' or anything like that… but eventually the Cooper Clan may make their return to The Society and be apart of our courts again."

"They were before? The Justicar made it sound like Conner would be the first one."

"Many, _many_ generations ago, before this current Justicar was even born, there were members that could walk among people without being seen, as if wrapped in a blanket of obfuscation. There were members who could do more than hyper-focus to perceive time as slower… they actually manipulated time so that their actions were perceived by the rest of the world as moving too fast to be seen. There were members who could sniff out gold and many other wonderful things. Idona has worked with two Coopers in the past back when the Coopers had members of their clan seated on our council. They helped fight in the clan wars when our council was at war with two other factions. Their involvement was a secret because one could never be sure if a faction had spies in their midst… but the clan wars are a thing of the past."

"But what about members like Sire? I know he's dead now but… he wasn't trustworthy. How could we say that this is one _great unified society at peace_ if people like Sire still live among us, working for their own needs?"

Steven placed a paw on her back, gesturing her into the parking lot. "Karla, Sire was one man. He managed to convince Nathaniel Carrington to work with him as a partner, he managed to trick _you_ and force you with his abilities. But the fact remains that there were once entire clans full of people like Sire. And if there still are… we don't know about them. And when we learn of them, we'll dispatch them with people like Conner and yourself. We have to keep this newfound peace at any cost."

Karla's eyes dropped to the ground. "And, eventually, you guys are going to want Donovan to be apart of this council, which means he'll need to learn how to fight."

"Which is why I'm watching over him. I want him to be safe when he becomes old enough to attract the Justicar's attention."

She fidgeted. "So we might still have more 'adventures' ahead of us, huh?"

Steven pushed his paws into his pockets and nodded. "You just never know. Only time will tell. Conner displayed incredible maturity while developing these powers. I can only wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Karla adjusted her wedding band then looked back up at Steven. She tilted her head and her canary-blond locks pooled over her carnation-vanilla shoulder fur, spilling down her back. "You can only wonder _what_, Steven?"

"I can only wonder how long it will be before Conner needs to make use of his powers again. Call it a hunch but now that our entire culture," he waved a paw at the building that the supernaturals met in just a little while ago, "now that everyone of us know about the artifacts and everything else… I can only wonder when the next man like Sire will surface to try and obtain more power for himself."

Her eyes lowered. "Then… I suppose it's only a matter of time."

"I hope Conner will be ready if this sort of thing happens again. If Moreau, a genetically self-modified mortal, can get as far as he did without any help… then a clandestine group of supernaturals could cause far more trouble."

"Then it'll be up to _us_ to stop it. In the mean time," she trailed off, shrugged and smiled. "I'll keep Conner on his toes so he can continue to develop his abilities." She walked to her car and waved.

Steven nodded in reply then watched her drive off the lot. Once she was beyond visual range, he withdrew a cellphone from his pocket and activated the encryption software. It beeped twice then he dialed a number. He waited then his left ear perked up against the phone receiver. He licked his lips then spoke in an exotic language of unknown origin. "Everything is in place. What are your orders?" He listened for the reply then lifted his head, looking into the sky. He caught a glimpse of something twinkling like a star in the eastern skyline, opposite of the afternoon sun. A smile spread across the skunk's face. "I see you. Raising Atlantis from the ocean without their notice will be difficult. The modern iteration of this planet's inhabitants has advanced a long way since your last visit. But if we take our time, I promise that you will get your city returned to you with all the technology you left my people ten thousand years ago. It will take a little time but… I assure you, now that I've found the location of the city again… I _will_ return it to you. You have my word – _nothing_ will stop us; it is destiny. Time flows like a river and history eventually repeats itself. With the rediscovery of True Atlantis, your people _will_ be the overseer of this planet once again. It's only a matter of time."

x-


End file.
